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SIR    WALTER     SCOTT 


WAVERLEY 


OR  *TIS. SIXTY  YEARS    SINCE 


B\  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  Bart. 


Undci  wliicli  King.  Bezonian  ?  speak,  or  die! 

He7iry  IV.  Partll, 


^^j^.-^-l 


VAVBRLBY    HONOUR. 


NEW  YORK 

HURST    &   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS. 


It  has  been  the  occasional  occupation  of  the  Author  of  Waverley  for  severA 
years  past  to  revise  and  correct  the  voluminous  series  of  Noz<els  which  pcui 
under  that  natne,  in  order  that,  if  they  should  ever  appear  as  his  avowed  pro- 
ductions,  he  might  roider  them  in  some  degree  deserving  of  a  continuance  of 
the  public  favor  with  which  they  have  been  honored  ever  since  their  first  ap- 
pearance. For  a  long  period,  however,  it  seemed  likely  that  the  improved  and 
illustrated  edition  which  he  meditated  would  be  a  posthumous  publication. 
But  the  course  of  the  events  which  occasioned  the  disclosure  of  t/ie  Author" a 
name  having  in  a  great  measure  restored  to  him  a  sort  of  parental  control 
over  these  Works,  he  is  naturally  induced  to  give  them  to  the  press  in  a  coT' 
reeled,  and,  he  hopes,  an  improved  form,  while  life  and  health  permit  the  task 
of  revising  and  illustrating  them.  Such  being  his  purpose,  it  ts  necessary  to 
say  a  few  words  on  the  plan  of  t/ie  proposed  Edition. 

In  stating  it  to  be  revised  and  corrected,  it  is  not  to  be  itif erred  that  any 
attempt  is  made  to  alter  the  tenor  oj  the  stories,  the  character  of  the  actors,  or 
the  spirit  of  the  dialogue.  There  is  no  doubt  ample  room  for  emendation  in 
all  these  points — but  where  the  tree  falls  it  must  lie.  Any  attempt  to  obviate 
criticism,  hoivever  just,  by  altering  a  work  already  in  the  hands  of  the  public^ 
u  generally  unsuccessful.  In  the  most  improbable  fiction  the  reader  still  de- 
sires  some  air  of  vraisemblance,  and  does  not  relish  that  the  incidents  oj  a  tale 
familiar  to  him  should  be  altered  to  suit  the  taste  of  critics,  or  the  caprice  of 
the  author  himself.  This  process  of  feeling  is  so  natural  that  it  may  b» 
observed  even  in  children,  who  catttwt  endure  that  a  nursery  story  should  be 
repeated  to  them  differently  from  the  manner  in  which  it  was  first  told. 

But  without  altering  in  the  slightest  degree  either  the  story  or  the  mode  of 
telling  it,  the  Author  has  taken  this  opportunity  to  correct  errors  of  the  presi 
and  slips  of  the  pen.  That  such  should  exist  cannot  be  wondered  at,  when  it 
is  considered  that  the  Publishers  fmcnd  it  their  interest  to  hurry  through  tht 
press  a  succession  of  the  early  editions  of  the  various  /Novels,  and  that  tht 
Author  had  not  the  usual  opporttmity  of  revision.  It  is  hoped  that  the  present 
vlition  will  be  found  free  from  errors  of  that  accidental  kind. 

The  Author  has  also  ventured  to  make  sotne  emendatioti:  cf  a  differet^ 


^  ADVERTISEMENT 

tharMU.t'u>hifh,  uuihouf  dcing  such  a^paretU  aezmtioiLi  from  the  originai 
storks  as  to  disturb  the  reader's  olJ  associations,  will,  he  thinks,  add  something 
to  the  sfirit  of  the  dialogue,  narrative  or  description.  These  consist  in  occa- 
sional fruning  where  the  language  is  redtmdant,  compression  where  the  style 
is  loose,  infusion  of  vigor  where  it  is  languid,  the  exchange  of  less  forcible  for 
more  appropriate  epithets — slight  alterations,  in  short,  like  the  last  touches  of 
an  artist,  which  cowtribute  to  heighten  and  finish  the  picture,  though  an  intx» 
ferienced  eye  can  hardly  detect  in  what  they  co)isist. 

The  General  Preface  to  the  tiezv  Editio>i,  and  the  Introductory  Notices  to 
each  separate  work,  will  contain  an  account  of  such  circumstances  attending 
ike  first  publication  of  the  Novels  and  Tales  as  may  appear  interesting  in 
themselves  or  proper  to  be  communicated  to  tlie  public.  The  Author  also  pro- 
poses to  publish  on  this  occasion  the  various  legends,  family  traditions,  or  ob- 
Kiire  historical  facts,  which  have  fortned  the  ground-work  of  these  Novels,and 
to  give  some  account  of  the  places  where  tht  scenes  are  laid,  when  these  are 
vitogether  or  in  part  real ;  as  well  as  a  statement  of  partiailar  ificidents 
founded  on  fact ;  together  with  a  more  copious  Glossary,  and  Notes  explana- 
tory of  the  ancient  customs  and  popular  superstitiotts  referred  to  in  t/ie 
Romances. 

Upon  the  whole,  it  is  hoped  that  the  Waverley  Novels,  in  their  new  dress, 
toQl  not  be  found  to  have  lost  any  part  of  their  attractions  in  consequence  of 
fwceiving  illustrations  by  the  Author,  and  undergoing  hiscartfiU  i 


A'V 


7^0  this  slight  attempt  at  a  sketch  of  ancient  Scottish  manners  the 
public  have  been  more  favorable  than  the  Author  durst  have  hoped 
vr  expected.  He  has  heardy  with  a  mixture  of  satisfaction  and 
humility,  his  work  ascribed  to  more  tha?t  o?ie  respectable  name. 
Considerations y  which  seem  weighty  in  his  particular  situation, 
prevent  his  releasing  those  gentlemen  from  suspicion  by  placing  his 
ewn  name  in  the  titlepage :  so  that,  for  the  present  at  least,  it 
must  remain  uncertain  lohether  Waverley  be  the  work  of  a  poet  or 
a  critic,  a  lawyer  or  a  clergymen,  or  whether  the  writer,  to  usi 
Mrs.  Malapropos  phrase,  be,  "  like  Cerberus — three  gentlemen  at 
ence."  The  Author,  as  he  is  uficonscious  of  anythuig  in  the  work 
itself  {except,  perhaps,  its  frivolity)  which  prevents  its  finding  an 
acknowledged  father,  leaves  it  to  the  candor  of  the  public  to  choose 
amojig  the  many  circumstances  peculiar  to  different  situations  in 
life,  such  as  may  induce  him  to  suppress  his  name  on  the  present 
occasion.  He  may  be  a  writer  new  to  publication,  and  unwilling 
to  avow  a  character  to  which  he  is  unaccustomed  ;  or  he  may  be  a 
hackneyed  author  who  is  ashamed  of  too  frequent  appearance,  and 
emlpoys  this  mystery,  as  the  heroine  of  the  old  comedy  used  her 
mask  to  attract  the  attention  of  those  to  whom  her  face  had  become 
too  familiar.  He  may  be  a  man  of  a  grave  profession,  to  whom 
the  reputation  of  being  a  novel-writer  may  be  prejudicial :  or  he 
may  be  a  man  of  fashion,  to  zchom  ivriting  of  any  kind  might 
Appear  pedantic.  He  may  be  too  young  to  assume  tke  character 
qfan  author y  or  so  old  as  to  make  it  advisable  to  lay  it  aside. 


5  PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  EDITION. 

Tfie  Author  of  Wavcrlcy  has  heard  it  objected  to  this  novel  thai 
in  the  character  of  Galium  Beg,  and  in  the  accotint  given  by  tht 
Baron  of  Bradwardine  of  the  petty  trespasses  of  the  Highlanders 
upon  trifling  articles  of  property,  he  has  borne  hard,  and  unjustly 
to,  upon  their  national  character.     Nothing  could  be  farther frofn 
kis  wish  or  intention.     The  character  of  Callum  Beg  is  that  of  a 
Spirit  naturally  tur7ied  to  daring  evil,  and  determined,  by  the  cir 
aimstances  of  his  situation,  to  a  particular  species  of  mischief. 
Those  who  have  perused  the  curious  Letters  from  the  Highlands, 
published  about  1726,  will  find  instaiiees  of  suck  atrocious  char- 
acters lohich  fell  under  the  writer's  own  observation,  though  it 
would  be  most  unjust  to  consider  such  villains  as  representatives 
of  the  Highlanders  of  that  period,  any  more  than  the  murderers 
of  Marr  and  Wil/ia?nson  can  be  supposed  to  represent  the  English 
of  the  present  day.     As  for  the  plunder  supposed  to  have  been 
picked  up  by  some  of  the  insurgents  in  1 745,  //  miist  be  remembered 
that,  although  the  way  of  that  inifor-tunate  little  army  was  neither 
marked  by  devastation  nor  bloodshed,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 
orderly  and  quiet  in  a  most  zuonderful  degree,  yet  no  army  marches 
through  a  country  in  a  hostile  manner  without  cotnmitting  som& 
depredations  ;  and  several  to  the  exte?it  and  of  the  nature  Jocularly 
imputed  to  them  by  the  Baron,  were  really  laid  to  the  charge  of 
the  Highland  insurgents  ;  for  which  many  traditions,  and  par^ 
Hcularly  one  respecting  the  Knight  of  the  Mirror,  may  be  quoted 
M  good  evidence.* 

*  S«e  note,  Author^  Address  to  all  in  general,  (n  4j6> 


GENERAL  PREFACE,  1829. 


And  must  I  rayel  out 
My  weaved-up  follies? 

RicltardU.ActlV, 

Having  undertaken  to  give  an  Introductory  Account  of  the  composi 
tions  which  are  here  offered  to  the  puljlic,  with  Notes  and  Illustrations,  the 
author,  under  whose  name  they  are  now  for  the  tirst  time  collected,  feela 
that  he  has  the  delicate  task  of  speaking  more  of  himself  and  his  personal 
concerns,  than  may  perhaps  be  either  graceful  or  prudent.  In  this  particu- 
lar, he  runs  the  risk  of  presenting  himself  to  the  public  in  the  relation 
that  the  dumb  wife  in  the  jest-book  held  to  her  husband,  when,  having 
spent  half  of  his  fortune  to  obtain  the  cure  of  her  imperfection,  he  was  willing " 
to  have  bestowed  the  other  half  to  restore  her  to  her  former  condition.  But 
this  is  a  risk  inseparable  from  the  task  which  the  author  has  undertaken, 
and  he  can  only  promise  to  be  as  little  of  an  egotist  as  the  situation  will 
permit.  It  is  perhaps  an  indifferent  sign  of  a  disposition  to  keep  his  word, 
that  having  introduced  himself  in  the  third  person  singular,  he  proceeds  in 
the  second  paragraph  to  make  use  of  the  first.  But  it  appears  to  him  that 
the  seeming  modesty  connected  with  the  former  mode  of  writing,  is  over- 
balanced by  the  inconvenience  of  stiffness  and  affectation  which  attends  it 
during  a  narrative  of  some  length,  and  which  may  be  observed  less  or  more 
in  every  work  in  which  the  third  person  is  used,  from  the  Commentaries  of 
Caesar,  to  the  Autobiography  of  Alexander  the  Corrector.* 

I  must  refer  to  a  very  early  period  of  my  life,  were  I  to  point  out  my 
first  achievements  as  a  tale-teller — but  I  believe  some  of  my  old  schoolfel* 
lows  can  still  bear  witness  that  I  had  a  distinguished  character  for  that 
talent,  at  a  time  when  the  applause  of  my  companions  was  my  recompense  for 
the  disgraces  and  punishments  which  the  future  romance-writer  incurred  for 
being  idle  himself,  and  keeping  others  idle,  during  hours  that  should  have 
been  employed  on  our  tasks.  The  chief  enjoyment  of  my  holidays  was  to 
escape  with  a  chosen  friend,  who  had  the  same  taste  with  myself,  and  alter- 
lately  to  recite  to  each  other  such  wild  adventures  as  we  were  able  to 
devise.  We  told,  each  in  turn,  interminable  tales  of  knight-errantry  and 
battles  and  enchantments,  which  were  continued  from  one  day  to  another, 
as  opportunity  offered,  without  our  ever  thinking  of  bringing  them  to  a 
conclusion.  As  we  observed  a  strict  secrecy  on  the  subject  of  this  inter- 
course, it  acquired  all  the  character  of  a  concealed  pleasure,  and  we  used 
to  select,  for  the  scenes  of  our  indulgence,  long  walks  through  the  solitary 
and  romantic  environs  of  Arthur's  Scat,  Salisbury  Crags,  Braid  Hills,  and 
similar  places  in  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh  ;  and  the  recollection  of  those 
holidays  still  forms  an  oasis  in  the  pilgrimage  which  I  have  to  look  back 
upon.  I  have  only  to  add,  tliat  my  friend  t  still  lives,  a  prosperous  gentle- 
man, but  too  much  occupied  with  graver  business,  to  thank  me  for  indica- 
ting him  more  plainly  as  a  confidant  of  my  childish  mystery. 

•  (Alexander  the  Corrector,  a  name  assumed  by  Alexander  Cruden,  best  known  a« 
the  author  of  the  Concordance.  Among  various  other  pamphlets,  he  published  in  three 
parts  "The  adventures  of  Alexander  the  Corrector,"  1754  and  i/ss — "exhibiting,"'  %Vj% 
Alexander  Chalmers,  "a  species  of  insanity  which  is  almost  unique.'') 

t  Uohn  Irving,  writer  to  the  Signet,  Eclinburu;h,  died  iSw-) 


8  GENERAL  PREFACE. 

When  boyhood  advancing  into  youth  required  more  serious  studies  and 
graver  cares,  a  long  illness  threw  me  back  on  the  kingdom  of  fiction,  as  il 
It  were  by  a  species  of  fatality.  My  indisposition  arose,  in  part  at  least, 
from  my  having  broken  a  blood-vessel  ;  and  motion  and  speech  were  for  a  long 
time  pronounced  positively  dangerous.  For  several  weeks  I  was  confined 
strictly  to  mv  bed,  during  which  time  I  was  not  allowed  to  speak  above  a 
whisper,  to  cat  more  than  a  spoonful  or  two  of  boiled  rice,  or  to  have  more 
covering  than  one  thin  counterpane.  When  the  reader  is  informed  that  I  was 
at  this  time  a  growing  youth,  with  the  spirits,  appetite,  and  impatience,  of 
fifteen,  and  suffered,  of  course,  greatly  under  this  severe  regimen,  which  th» 
repeated  return  of  my  disorder  rendered  indispensible,  he  will  not  be  sur- 
prised that  I  was  abandoned  to  my  ovn  discretion,  so  far  as  reading  (my 
almost  sole  amusement)  was  concerned,  and  still  less  so,  that  I  abused  the 
indulgence  which  left  my  time  so  much  at  my  own  disposal. 

There  was  at  this  time  a  circulating  library  in  Edinburgh,  founded,  I  be- 
lieve,  by  the  celebrated  Allan  Ramsay,  which,  besides  containing  a  most 
respectable  collection  of  books  of  ever}'  description,  was,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  peculiarly  rich  in  works  of  fiction.  It  exhibited  specimens 
of  every  kind,  from  the  romances  of  chivalry,  and  the  ponderous  frolics  of 
Cyrus  and  Cassandra,  down  to  the  most  approved  works  of  later  times.  I 
was  plunged  into  this  great  ocean  of  reading  without  compass  or  pilot  ;  and 
unless  when  some  one  had  the  charity  to  play  at  chess  with  me,  I  was 
allowed  to  do  nothing  save  read,  from  morning  to  night.  I  was,  in  kindness 
and  pity,  which  was  perhaps  erroneous,  however  natural,  permitted  to  se- 
lect my  subjects  of  study  at  my  own  pleasure,  upon  the  same  principle  that 
the  humors  of  children  are  indulged  to  keep  them  out  of  mischief.  As  my 
taste  and  appetite  were  gratified  in  nothing  else,  I  indemnified  myself  by 
becoming  a  glutton  of  books.  Accordingly,  I  believe  I  read  almost  all  the 
romances,  old  plays,  and  epic  poetry,  in  that  formidable  collection,  and  no 
doubt  was  unconsciously  amassing  materials  for  the  task  in  which  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  be  so  much  employed. 

At  the  same  time  I  did  not  in  all  respects  abuse  the  license  permitted 
me.  Familiar  acquaintance  with  the  specious  miracles  of  fiction  brought 
with  it  some  degree  of  satiety,  and  I  began,  by  degrees,  to  seek  in  histories, 
memoirs,  voyages,  and  travels,  and  the  like,  events  nearly  as  wonderful  as 
tho»e  which  were  the  work  of  imagination,  with  the  additional  advantage  that 
they  were  at  least  in  a  great  measure  true.  The  lapse  of  nearly  tn'o  years, 
during  which  I  was  left  to  the  exercise  of  my  own  free  will,  was  followed 
by  a  temporary  residence  in  the  country  ;  where  I  was  again  very  lonely  but 
for  the  amusement  which  I  derived  from  a  good  though  old-fashioned  library. 
The  vague  and  wild  use  which  I  made  of  this  advantage  I  cannot  describe 
better  than  by  referring  my  reader  to  the  desultory  studies  of  Waverley  in  a 
similar  situation  ;  the  passages  concerning  whose  course  of  reading  were  imi- 
tated from  recollections  of  my  own. — It  must  be  understood  that  the  resem- 
blance extends  no  farther. 

Time,  as  it  glided  on,  brought  the  blessings  of  confirmed  health  and 
personal  strength,  to  a  degree  which  had  never  been  expected  or  hoped  for. 
The  severe  studies  necessary  to  render  me  fit  for  my  profession  occupied 
the  greater  part  of  my  time  ;  and  the  society  of  my  friends  and  companions 
who  were  about  to  enter  life  along  with  me,  filled  up  the  interval,  with  the 
usual  amusements  of  young  men.  I  was  in  a  situation  which  rendered 
serious  labor  indispensable  ;  for,  neither  possessing,  on  the  one  hand,  any 
of  those  peculiar  advantages  which  are  supposed  to  favor  a  hasty  advance 
in  the  profession  of  the  law,  nor  being,  on  the  other  hand,  exposed  to  un- 
usual obstacles  to  interrupt  my  progress,  I  might  reasonably  expect  to 


GENERAL  PREFACE.  ^ 

succeed  according  to  the  greater  or  less  degree  of  trouble  which  I  should 

take  to  qualify  myself  as  a  pleader. 

It  makes  no  part  of  the  present  story  to  detail  how  the  success  of  a  few 
ballads  had  the  effect  of  changing  all  the  purpose  and  tenor  of  my  life,  and 
of  converting  a  painstaking  lawyer  of  some  years'  standing  into  a  follower 
of  literature.  It  is  enough  to  say,  that  I  had  assumed  the  latter  character 
several  years  before  I  seriously  thought  of  attempting  a  work  of  imagina- 
tion in  prose,  although  one  or  two  of  my  poetical  attempts  did  not  differ 
from  romances  otherwise  than  by  being  written  in  verse.  But  yet,  I  may 
observe,  that  about  this  time  (now,  alas  I  thirty  years  since)  I  had  nour- 
ished the  ambitious  desire  of  composing  a  tale  of  chivalry,  which  was  to  be 
in  the  style  of  the  Castle  of  Otranto,  with  plenty  of  Border  characters,  and 
supernatural  incident.  Having  found  unexpectedly  a  chapter  of  this  in- 
tended work  among  some  old  papers,  I  have  subjoined  it  to  this  introductory 
essay,  thinking  some  readers  may  account  as  curious,  the  first  attempts  at 
romantic  composition  by  an  author  who  has  since  written  so  much  in  that 
department.*  And  those  who  complain,  not  unreasonably,  of  the  profusion 
of  the  Tales  which  have  followed  Waverley,  may  bless  their  stars  at  the 
narrow  escape  they  have  made,  by  the  commencement  of  the  inundation 
which  had  so  nearly  taken  place  in  the  first  year  of  the  century,  being  post- 
poned for  fifteen  years  later. 

This  particular  subject  was  never  resumed,  but  I  did  not  abandon  the 
idea  of  fictitious  composition  in  prose,  though  I  determined  to  give  another 
turn  to  the  style  of  the  work. 

My  early  recollections  of  the  Highland  scenery  and  customs  made  so 
favorable  an  impression  in  the  poem  called  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  that  1  was 
induced  to  attempt  something  of  the  same  kind  in  prose.  I  had  been  a  good 
deal  in  the  Highlands  at  a  time  when  they  were  much  less  accessible,  and  much 
less  visited,  than  they  have  been  of  late  years,  and  was  acquainted  with  many 
of  the  old  warriors  of  1745,  who  were,  like  most  veterans,  easily  induced  to 
fight  their  battles  over  again,  for  the  benefit  of  a  willing  listener  like  myself. 
It  naturally  occurred  to  me,  that  the  ancient  traditions  and  high  spirit  of  a 
people,  who,  living  in  a  civilized  age  and  country,  retained  so  strong  a  tinc- 
ture of  manners  belonging  to  an  early  period  of  society,  must  afford  a  sub- 
ject favorable  for  romance,  if  it  should  not  prove  a  curious  tale  marred  in 
the  telling. 

It  was  with  some  idea  of  this  kind,  that,  about  the  year  1805,  I  threw 
together  about  one-third  part  of  the  first  volume  of  Waverley.  It  was  ad- 
vertised to  be  published  by  the  late  Mr.  John  Ballantyne,  bookseller  in 
Edinburgh,  under  the  name  of  "  Waverley,  or  'Tis  Fifty  Years  Since," — a 
title  afterwards  altered  to  "'Tis  Sixty  Years  Since,"  that  the  actual  date  of 
publication  might  be  made  to  correspond  with  the  period  in  which  the  scene 
was  laid.  Having  proceeded  as  far,  I  think,  as  the  Seventh  Chapter,  I 
showed  my  work  to  a  critical  friend,  whose  opinion  was  unfavorable  ;  and 
having  than  some  poetical  reputation,  I  was  unwilling  to  risk  the  loss  of  it 
by  attempting  a  new  style  of  composition.  I  therefore  threw  aside  the  work 
I  had  commenced,  without  either  reluctance  or  remonstrance.  I  ought  to 
add,  that  though  my  ingenuous  friend's  sentence  was  afterwards  reversed, 
on  an  appeal  to  the  public,  it  cannot  be  considered  as  any  imputation  on  his 
good  taste  ;  for  the  specimen  subjected  to  his  criticism  did  not  extend 
beyond  the  departure  of  the  hero  for  Scotland,  and,  consequently,  had  not 
entered  upon  the  story  which  was  finally  found  most  interesting. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  this  portion  of  the  manuscript  was  laid  aside  in  the 
drawers  of  an  old  writing-desk,  which,  on  my  first  comimt  to  reside  at  Aly 
*  See  the  fragment  alluded  tc^    ,  >., 


,0  GENERAL  PREFACE. 

botsford,  in  iSii,  was  placed  in  a  lumber  garret,  and  entirely  forgottea 
Thus,  though  I  sonu'timcs,  among  other  literary  avocations,  turned  my 
thoughts  to  the  continuation  of  tlie  roinan>  e  which  I  had  commenced,  yet 
as  I  could  not  find  what  I  had  already  written,  after  searching  such  reposi- 
tories as  were  within  my  reach,  and  was  too  indolent  to  attempt  to  write  it 
anew  from  memory,  I  as  often  laid  aside  all  thoughts  of  that  nature. 

Two  circumstances,  in  particular,  recalled  my  recollection  of  the  mislaid 
manuscript.  The  first  was  the  extended  and  well-merited  fame  of  Miss 
£dgeworth,  whose  Irish  characters  have  gone  so  far  to  make  the  English 
familiar  with  the  character  of  their  gay  and  kind-hearted  neighbors  of  Ire- 
land, that  she  may  be  truly  said  to  have  done  more  towards  completing  the 
Union,  than  perhaps  all  the  legislative  enactments  by  which  it  has  been  fol' 
lowed  up. 

Without  being  so  presumptuous  as  to  hope  to  emulate  the  rich  humor, 
pathetic  tenderness,  and  admirable  tact,  which  pervade  the  works  of  my  ac- 
complished friend,  I  felt  thaf  something  might  be  attempted  for  my  own 
country,  of  the  same  kind  with  that  which  Aliss  Edgeworth  so  fortunately 
ichieved  for  Ireland — something  which  might  introduce  her  natives  to  those 
of  the  sister  kingdom,  in  a  more  favorable  light  than  they  had  been  placed 
hitherto,  and  tend  to  procure  sympathy  for  their  virtues  and  indulgence  for 
kheir  foibles.  I  thought  also,  that  much  of  what  I  wanted  in  talent  might 
be  made  up  by  the  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  subject  which  I  could  lay 
claim  to  possess,  as  having  travelled  through  most  parts  of  Scotland,  both 
Highland  and  Lowland;  having  been  familiar  with  the  elder,  as  well  as 
jnore  modern  race ;  and  having  had  from  my  infancy  free  and  unrestrained 
communication  with  all  ranks  of  my  countrymen,  from  the  Scottish  peer  to 
»he  Scottish  ploughman.  Such  ideas  often  occurred  to  me,  and  constituted 
an  ambitious  branch  of  my  theory,  however  far  short  I  may  have  fallen  of  it 
in  practice. 

But  it  was  not  only  the  triumphs  of  Miss  Edgeworth  which  worked  in 
■le  emulation,  and  disturbed  my  indolence.  I  chanced  actually  to  engage  in 
a  work  which  formed  a  sort  of  essay  piece,  and  gave  me  hope  that  I  might 
in  time  become  free  of  the  craft  of  Romance-writing,  and  be  esteemed  a  tol- 
erable workman. 

In  the  year  1S07-8,  I  undertook,  at  the  request  of  John  Murray,  Esq.,  of 
Albemarle  Street,  to  arrange  for  publication  soixe  posthumous  productions 
of  the  late  Mr.  Joseph  .Strutt,  distinguished  as  an  artist  and  an  antiquary, 
amongst  which  v/as  an  unfinished  romance,  entitled  "  Queen-IIoo-Hall." 
The  scene  of  the  tale  was  laid  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.,  and  the  work  was 
written  to  illustrate  the  manners,  customs,  and  language  of  the  people  of 
England  during  that  period.  The  extensive  acquaintance  which  Mr.  Strutt 
had  acquired  with  such  subjects  in  compiling  his  laborious  "  Horda  Angel 
Cynnan,"  his  "  Royal  and  Ecclesiastical  Antiquities,"  and  his  "  Essay  on  the 
Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People  of  England,"  had  rendered  him  familiar 
with  all  the  antiquarian  lore  necessary  for  the  purpose  of  composing  the 
projected  romance ;  and  although  the  manuscript  bore  the  marks  of  hurry 
and  incoherence  natural  to  the  first  rough  draught  of  the  author,  it  evinced 
(in  my  opinion)  considerable  powers  of  imagination. 

As  the  Work  was  unfinished,  I  deemed  it  my  duty,  as  Editor,  to  supply 
such  a  hasty  and  inartificial  conclusion  as  could  be  shaped  out  from  the 
story,_  of  which  Mr.  Strutt  had  laid  the  foundation.  This  concluding  chap 
ter*  is  also  added  to  the  present  IntroducUon,  for  the  reason  already  men- 
tioned regarding  the  preceding  fragment.    It  was  a  step  in  my  advance 

*  See  Appendix,  No.  W 


GENERAL  PREFACE.  £{ 

( 
towards  romantic  composition  ;  and  to  preserve  the  traces  of  these  is  in  a 
great  measure  the  object  of  this  Essay. 

Queen-Hoo-Hall  was  not,  however,  very  successful.  I  thought  I  was 
aware  of  the  reason,  and  supposed  that,  by  rendering  his  language  too 
ancient,  and  displaying  his  antiquarian  knowledge  too  liberally,  the  ingenious 
author  had  raised  up  an  obstacle  to  his  own  success.  Every  work  designed 
for  mere  amusement  must  be  expressed  in  language  easily  comprehended; 
and  when,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  in  Queen-Hoo-Hall,  the  author  addresses 
himself  exclusively  to  the  Antiquary,  he  must  be  content  to  be  dismissed  by 
the  general  reader  with  the  criticism  of  Mungo,  in  the  Padlock,  on  the 
Mauritanian  music,  "  What  signifies  me  hear,  if  me  no  understand .'' " 

I  conceived  it  possible  to  avoid  this  error  ;  and  by  rendering  a  similar 
work  more  light  and  obvious  to  general  comprehension,  to  escape  the  rock 
»)n  which  my  predecessor  was  shipwrecked.  But  I  was,  on  the  other  hand, 
so  far  discouraged  by  the  indifferent  reception  of  Mr.  Strutt's  romance,  as 
to  become  satisfied  that  the  manners  of  the  middle  ages  did  not  possess  the 
interest  which  I  had  conceived  ;  and  was  led  to  form  the  opinion  that  a  ro- 
mance, founded  on  a  Highland  story,  and  more  modern  events,  would  have 
a  better  chance  of  popularity  than  a  tale  of  chivalry.  My  thoughts,  there- 
fore, returned  more  than  once  to  the  tale  which  I  had  actually  commenced, 
and  accident  at  length  threw  the  lost  sheets  in  my  way. 

I  happened  to  want  some  fishing-tackle  for  the  use  of  a  guest,  when  it 
occurred  to  me  to  search  the  old  writing-desk  already  mentioned,  in  which 
I  used  to  keep  articles  of  that  nature.  I  got  access  to  it  with  some  diffi- 
culty; and,  in  looking  for  lines  and  flies,  the  long-lost  manuscript  presented 
itself.  I  immediately  set  to  work  to  complete  it,  according  to  my  original 
purpose.  And  here  I  must  frankly  confess  that  the  mode  in  which  I  con- 
ducted the  story  scarcely  deserved  the  success  which  the  romance  afterwards 
attained.  The  tale  of  Waverley  was  put  together  with  so  little  care  that  I 
cannot  boast  of  having  sketched  any  distinct  plan  of  the  work.  The  whole 
adventures  of  Waverley,  in  his  movements  up  and  down  the  country  with 
the  Highland  cateran  Bean  Lean,  are  managed  without  much  skill.  It  suited 
best,  however,  the  road  I  wanted  to  travel,  and  permitted  me  to  introduce 
some  descriptions  of  scenery  and  manners,  to  which  the  reality  gave  an  in- 
terest which  the  powers  of  the  author  might  have  otherwise  failed  to  attain 
for  them.  And  though  I  have  been  in  other  instances  a  sinner  in  this  sort, 
I  do  not  recollect  any  of  these  novels,  in  which  I  have  transgressed  so 
widely  as  in  the  first  of  the  series. 

Among  other  unfounded  reports,  it  has  been  said  that  the  copyright  of 
Waverley  was,  during  the  book's  progress  through  the  press,  offered  for 
sale  to  various  booksellers  in  London  at  a  very  inconsiderable  piice.  This 
was  not  the  case.  Messrs.  Constable  &  Cadell,  who  published  the  work, 
were  the  only  persons  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  publication,  and 
they  offered  a  large  sum  for  it  while  in  the  course  of  printing,  which,  how- 
ever, was  declined,  the  author  not  choosing  to  part  with  the  copyright. 

_  The  origin  of  the  story  of  Waverley,  and  the  particular  facts  on  which 
it  is  founded,  are  given  in  the  separate  introduction  prefixed  to  that  ro- 
mance in  this  edition,  and  require  no  notice  in  this  place. 

Waverley  was  published  in  1S14,  and  as  the  title-page  was  without  the 
name  of  the  author,  the  work  w;is  left  to  win  its  way  in  the  world  without 
any  of  the  usual  recommendations.  Its  progress  was  for  some  time  slow; 
but  after  the  first  two  or  three  months,  its  popularity  had  increased  in  a  de- 
gree which  must  have  satisfied  the  expectations  of  the  author,  had  these  been 
far  more  sanguine  than  he  ever  entertained. 

Great  anxiety  was  expressed  to  learn  the  name  of  the  author,  but  on  this 


tji  GENERAL  PREFACE. 

no  authentic  information  could  be  attained.  My  original  motive  {or  pub" 
lishing  the  work  anonymously  was  the  consciousness  that  it  was  an  expert 
tnent  on  the  public  taste  which  might  very  probably  fail,  and  therefore  there 
was  no  occasion  to  take  on  myself  the  jjcrsonal  risk  of  discomfiture.  For  this 
pur]iose  considerable  precautions  were  used  to  preserve  secrecy.  My  old 
friend  and  school-fellow,  Mr.  James  Ballantyne,  who  printed  these  Novels, 
had  the  exclusive  task  of  corresponding  with  the  author,  who  thus  had  not 
only  the  advantage  of  his  professional  talents  but  also  of  his  critical  abili- 
ties. The  original  manuscript,  or,  as  it  is  technically  called,  copy,  was  trans- 
cribed under  Mr.  Ballantyne's  eye  by  confidential  persons ;  nor  was  there 
an  instance  of  treachery  durmg  the  many  years  in  which  these  precautions 
%vere  resorted  to,  although  various  individuals  were  employed  at  different 
times.  Double  proof-sheets  were  regularly  printed  off.  One  was  forwarded 
to  the  author  by  Mr.  15allantyne,  and  the  alterations  which  it  received  were, 
by  his  own  hand,  copied  upon  the  other  proof-sheet  for  the  use  of  the  print- 
ers, so  that  even  the  corrected  proofs  of  the  author  were  never  seen  in  the 
printing-otilice  ;  and  thus  the  curiosity  of  such  eager  inquirers  as  made  the 
most  minute  investigation,  was  entirely  at  fault. 

But  although  the  cause  of  concealing  the  author's  name  in  the  first  in- 
stance, when  the  reception  of  Waverley  was  doubtful,  was  natural  enough, 
:t  is  more  difficult,  it  may  be  thought,  to  account  for  the  same  desire  for 
secrecy  during  the  subsequent  editions,  to  the  amount  of  betwixt  eleven  and 
twelve  thousand  copies,  which  followed  each  other  close,  and  proved  the 
success  of  the  work.  I  am  sorry  I  can  give  little  satisfaction  to  queries  on 
this  subject.  I  have  already  stated  elsewhere,  that  I  can  render  little  better 
reason  for  choosing  to  remain  anonymous,  than  by  saying  with  Shylock,  that 
such  was  my  humor.  It  will  be  observed,  that  I  had  not  the  usual  stimulus 
for  desiring  personal  reputation,  the  desire,  namely,  to  float  amidst  the  con- 
versation of  men.  Of  literary  fame,  whether  merited  or  undeserved,  I  had 
already  as  much  as  might  have  contented  a  mind  more  ambitious  than  mine ; 
and  in  entering  into  this  new  contest  for  reputation,  I  might  be  said  rather 
to  endanger  what  I  had,  than  to  have  any  considerable  chance  of  acquiring 
more.  I  was  affected,  too,  by  none  of  those  motives  which,  at  an  earliet 
period  of  life,  would  doubtless  have  operated  upon  me.  My  friendships 
were  formed, — my  place  in  society  fixed, — my  life  had  attained  its  middle 
course.  My  condition  in  society  was  higher  perhaps  than  I  deserved,  cen 
tainly  as  high  as  I  wished,  and  there  was  scarce  any  degree  of  literary  suc- 
cess which  could  have  greatly  altered  or  improved  my  personal  condition. 

I  was  not,  therefore,  touched  by  the  spur  of  ambition,  usually  stimula- 
ting on  such  occasions;  and  yet  I  ought  to  stand  exculpated  from  the  charge 
of  ungracious  or  unbecoming' indifference  to  public  applause.  I  did  not  the 
less  feel  gratitude  for  the  public  favor,  although  I  did  not  proclaim  it, — ag 
the  lover  who  wears  his  mistress's  favor  in  his  bosom,  is  as  proud,  though 
not  so  vain  of  possessing  it,  as  another  who  displays  the  token  of  her  grace 
upon  his  bonnet.  Far  from  such  an  ungracious  state  of  mind,  I  have  seldom 
felt  more  satisfaction  than  when,  returning  from  a  pleasure  voyage,  I  found 
Waverley  in  the  zenith  of  popularity,  and  public  curiosity  in  full  cry  aftei 
the  name  of  the  author.  The  knowledge  that  I  had  the  public  approbation, 
Wfts  like  having  the  property  of  a  hidden  treasure,  not  less  gratifying  to  the 
owner  than  if  all  the  world  knew  that  it  was  his  own.  Another  advantage 
was  connected  with  the  secrecy  which  I  observed.  I  could  appear,  or  re- 
tfeat  from  the  stage  at  pleasure,  without  attracting  any  personal  notice  of 
attention,  other  than  what  might  be  founded  on  suspicion  only.  In  my  own 
person  also,  as  a  successful  author  in  another  department  of  literature,  1 
might  have  been  charged  with  too  frequent  intrusions  on  the  public  patience  ( 


)  ^-  .  13 

e?K  tne  nxxttvjr  O!  Waverley  was  In  this  respect  as  impwssiDie  to  tne  critif 

as  the  Ghost  of  Hamlet  to  the  partisan  of  Marcellus.  Perhaps  the  curiosi^ 
of  the  public,  irritated  by  the  existence  of  a  secret,  and  kept  afloat  by  th* 
discussions  which  took  place  on  the  subject  from  time  to  time,  went  a  good 
way  to  maintain  an  unabated  interest  in  these  frequent  publications.  There 
was  a  mystery  concerning  the  author,  which  each  new  novel  was  expected 
to  assist  in  unravelling,  although  it  might  in  other  respects  rank  lower  than 
its  predecessors. 

I  may  perhaps  be  thought  guilty  of  affectation,  should  I  allege  as  one 
reason  of  my  silence,  a  secret  dislike  to  enter  on  personal  discussions  con- 
cerning my  own  literary  labors.  It  is  in  every  case  a  dangerous  intercourse 
for  an  author  to  be  dwelling  continually  among  those  who  make  his  writings 
a  frequent  and  familiar  subject  of  conversation,  but  who  must  necessarily 
be  partial  judges  of  works  composed  in  their  own  society.  The  habits  of 
self-importance,  which  are  thus  acquired  by  authors,  are  highly  injurious  to 
a  well-regulated  mind ;  for  the  cup  of  flattery,  if  it  does  not,  like  that  of 
Circe,  reduce  men  to  the  level  of  beasts,  is  sure,  if  eagerly  drained,  to  bring 
the  best  and  the  ablest  down  to  that  of  fools.  This  risk  was  in  some  degree 
prevented  by  the  mask  which  I  wore ;  and  my  own  stores  of  self-conceit 
were  left  to  iheir  natural  course,  without  being  enhanced  by  the  partiality  of 
friends,  or  adulation  of  flatterers. 

If  I  am  asked  further  reasons  for  the  conduct  I  have  long  observed,  I 
can  only  resort  to  the  explanation  supplied  by  a  critic  as  friendly  as  he  is 
intelligent ;  namely,  that  the  mental  organization  of  the  Novelist  must  be 
characterized,  to  speak  craniologically,  by  an  extraordinary  development 
of  the  passion  for  delitescency  1  I  the  rather  suspect  some  natural  dis- 
position of  this  kind ;  for,  from  the  instant  I  perceived  the  extreme  curiosity 
manifested  on  the  subject,  I  felt  a  secret  satisfaction  in  baffling  it,  for  which, 
when  its  unimportance  is  considered,  I  do  not  well  know  how  to  account. 

My  desire  to  remain  concealed,  in  the  character  of  the  author  of  these 
Novels,  subjected  me  occasionally  to  awkward  embarrassments,  as  it  some- 
times happened  that  those  who  were  sufirciently  intimate  with  me  would 
put  the  question  in  direct  terms.  In  this  case,  only  one  of  three  courses 
could  be  followed.  Either  I  must  have  surrendered  my  secret, — or  have 
returned  an  equivocating  answer, — or,  finally,  must  have  stoutly  and  boldly 
denied  the  fact.  The  first  was  a  sacrifice  which  I  conceive  no  one  had  3 
right  to  force  from  me,  since  I  alone  was  concerned  in  the  matter.  Thft 
alternative  of  rendering  a  doubtful  answer  must  have  left  me  open  to  the 
degrading  suspicion  that  I  was  not  unwilling  to  assume  the  merit  (if  there 
was  any)  which  I  dared  not  absolutely  lay  claim  to;  or  those  who  might 
think  more  justly  of  me,  must  have  received  such  an  equivocal  answer  as  an 
indirect  avowal.  I  therefore  considered  myself  entitled,  like  an  accused 
person  put  upon  trial,  to  refuse  giving  my  own  evidence  to  my  own  convic- 
tion, and  flatly  to  deny  all  that  could  not  be  proved  against  me.  At  the 
same  time,  I  usually  qualified  my  denial  by  stating,  that,  had  I  been  the 
author  of  these  works,  I  would  have  felt  myself  quite  entitled  to  protect  my 
secret  by  refusing  my  own  evidence,  whea  it  was  asked  for  to  accomplish  a 
discovery  of  what  I  desired  to  conceal. 

The  real  truth  is,  that  I  never  expected  or  hoped  to  disguise  mycon« 
nexion  with  these  Novels  from  any  one  who  lived  on  terms  of  intimacy  with 
me.  The  number  of  coincidences  which  necessarily  existed  between  nar« 
ratives  recounted,  modes  of  expression,  and  opinions  broached  in  these 
Tales,  and  such  as  were  used  by  their  author  in  the  intercourse  of  private 
life,  must  have  been  far  too  great  to  permit  any  of  my  familiar  acquaint* 
ances  to  doubt  the  identity  betwixt  their  frieni  and  the  Author  of  Wavsrky  i 


14  GENERAL  PREFACE, 

and  T  believe  they  wen»  all  morally  convinced'  ot  it.  But  while  I  was  ftlf^ 
self  silent,  their  belief  could  not  weigh  much  more  with  the  world  than  that 
of  others;  their  opinions  and  reasoning  were  liable  to  be  taxed  with  par- 
tiality, or  confro.jted  with  opposing  arguments  and  opinions ;  and  the 
question  was  not  8o  much  whether  I  should  be  generally  acknowledged  to 
be  the  author,  in  spite  of  my  own  denial,  as  whether  even  my  own  avowal 
of  the  works,  if  such  should  be  made,  would  be  sufficient  to  put  me  in  un* 
disputed  possessioii  of  that  character.  ' 

I  have  been  oflin  asked  concerning  supposed  cases,  in  which  I  was  said 
to  have  been  plac-sd  on  the  verge  of  discovery;  but,  as  I  maintained  my 
point  with  the  composure  of  a  lawyer  of  thirty  years'  standing,  I  never  re- 
collect being  in  pain  or  confusion  on  the  subject.  In  Captain  Medwyn's 
Conversations  of  Lord  Byron,  the  reporter  states  himself  to  have  asked  my 
noble  and  highly-gifted  friend,  "  If  he  was  certain  about  these  Novels  being 
Sir  Walter  Scott's  .'"  To  which  Lord  Byron  replied,  "  Scott  as  much  as 
owned  himself  the  ;=iuthor  of  Waverley  to  me  in  Murray's  shop.  I  was  talk- 
ing to  him  about  that  novel,  and  lamented  that  its  author  had  not  carried 
back  the  story  nearer  to  the  time  of  the  Revolution — Scott,  entirely  off  his 
guard,  replied,  '  Ay,  I  might  have  done  so;  but — 'there  he  stopped.  It 
was  in  vain  to  attempt  to  correct  himself;  he  looked  confused,  and  relieved 
his  embarrassment  by  a  precipitate  retreat."  I  have  no  recollection  what- 
ever of  this  scene  taking  place,  and  I  should  have  thought  that  I  was  more 
likely  to  have  laughed  than  to  appear  confused,  for  I  certainly  never  hoped 
to  impose  upon  Lord  Byron  in  a  case  of  the  kind  ;  and  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  uniformly  expressed  himself,  I  knew  his  opinion  was  entirely 
formed,  and  that  any  disclamations  of  mine  would  only  have  savored  o£ 
affectation.  I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate  that  the  incident  did  not  happen, 
but  only  that  it  could  hardly  have  occurred  exactly  under  the  circum- 
stances narrated,  without  my  recollecting  something  positive  on  the  subject. 
In  another  part  of  the  same  volume.  Lord  BjTon  is  reported  to  have  ex- 
pressed a  supposition  that  the  cause  of  my  not  avowing  myself  the  Author 
of  Waverley  may  have  been  some  surmise  that  the  reigning  family  would 
have  been  displeased  with  the  work.  I  can  only  say  it  is  the  last  appre- 
hension I  should  have  entertained,  as  indeed  the  inscription  of  these  volumes 
sufficiently  proves.  The  sufferers  of  that  melancholy  period  have,  during 
the  last  and  present  reign,  been  honored  both  with  the  sympathy  and  pro- 
tection of  the  reigning  family,  whose  magnanimity  can  well  pardon  a  sigh 
from  others,  and  bestow  one  themselves,  to  the  memory  of  brave  opponents, 
who  did  nothing  in  hate,  but  all  in  honor. 

While  those  who  were  in  habitual  intercourse  with  the  real  author  had 
little  hesitation  in  assigning  the  literary  property  to  him,,  others,  and  those 
critics  of  no  mean  rank,  employed  themselves  in  investigating  with  per< 
severing  patience  any  characteristic  features  which  might  seem  to  betray  the 
origin  of  these  Novels.  Amongst  these,  one  gentleman,  equally  remarkable 
for  the  kind  and  liberal  tone  of  his  criticism,  the  acuteness  of  his  reasoning, 
and  the  very  gentlemanlike  manner  in  which  he  conducted  his  inquiries,  dis- 
played not  only  powers  of  accurate  investigation,  but  a  temper  of  mind 
deser\'ing  to  be  employed  on  a  subject  of  much  greater  importance ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  made  converts  to  his  opinion  of  almost  all  who  thought  the 
point  worthy  of  consideration.*  Of  those  letters,  and  other  attempts  of  the 
Bame  kind,  the  author  could  not  complain,  though  his  incognito  was  endan- 
gered. Hehad  challenged  the  public  to  a  game  at  bo-peep,  and  if  he  waa 
tfscovered  in  his  "  hiding-hole,"  he  must  submit  to  the  shame  of  detection 

*  Letters  oc  <t>e  Author  of  Waverley ;  Ro4well  and  Martin,  Londoiv  tSu 


GENERAL  PREFACE.  t| 

Various  reports  were  of  course  circulated  in  vari  %  ways  ;  some  found- 
ed on  an  accurate  rehearsal  of  what  may  have  b^*A  partly  real,  some  on 
circumstances  having  no  concern  whatever  with  the  'Object,  and  others  on 
the  invention  of  some  importunate  persons,  who  ««  iight  perhaps  imagine 
that  the  readiest  mode  of  forcing  the  author  to  ^\jr.lose  himself  was  to 
assign  some  dishonorable  and  discreditable  cause  foi  ^.is  silence. 

It  may  be  easily  supposed  that  this  sort  of  inquJs'tion  was  treated  with 
contempt  by  the  person  whom  it  principally  regarded;  as,  among  all  the 
rumors  that  were  current  there  was  only  one,  and  tibat  as  unfounded  as 
the  others,  which  had  nevertheless  some  alliance  to  probability,  and  indeed 
might  have  proved  in  some  degree  true. 

I  allude  to  a  leport  which  ascribed  a  great  part,  o?  the  whole,  of  these 
Novels  to  the  late  Thomas  Scott,  Esq.,  of  the  70th  reg  tnent,  then  stationed 
in  Canada.  Those  who  remember  that  gentleman  wi'tJ  readily  grant,  that, 
with  general  talents  at  least  equal  to  those  of  his  eldev  brother,  he  added  a 
power  of  social  humor,  and  a  deep  insight  into  hui^^n  character,  which 
rendered  him  an  universally  delightful  member  of  socie^,  and  that  the  habit 
of  composition  alone  was  wanting  to  render  him  equ-tlly  successful  as  a 
writer.  The  author  of  Waverley  was  so  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  this,  that 
he  warmly  pressed  his  brother  to  make  such  an  experiment,  and  willingly 
undertook  all  the  trouble  of  correcting  and  superintending  the  press.  Mr, 
Thomas  Scott  seemed  at  first  very  well  disposed  to  embrace  the  proposal, 
and  had  even  fixed  on  a  subject  and  a  hero.  The  latter  *as  a  person  well 
known  to  both  of  us  in  our  boyish  years,  from  having  displayed  some  strong 
traits  of  character.  Mr.  T.  Scott  had  determined  to  represent  his  youthful 
acquaintance  as  emigrating  to  America,  and  encountering  the  dangers  and 
hardships  of  the  New  World,  with  the  same  dauntless  spirit  which  he  had 
displayed  when  a  boy  in  his  native  country.  Mr.  Scott  would  probably  have 
been  highly  successful,  being  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  ^^.anners  of  the 
native  Indians,  of  the  old  French  settlers  in  Canada,  and  of  the  Brules  or 
Woodsmen,  and  having  the  power  of  observing  with  accuracy  what,  I  have 
no  doubt,  he  could  have  sketched  with  force  and  expression.  In  short,  the 
author  believes  his  brother  would  have  made  himself  distinguished  in  that 
striking  field,  in  which,  since  that  period,  Mr.  Cooper  has  achieved  so  many 
triumphs.  But  Mr.  T.  Scott  was  already  affected  by  bad  health,  which  wholly 
unfitted  him  for  literary  labor,  even  if  he  could  have  reconciled  his  pa- 
tience to  the  task.  He  never,  I  believe,  wrote  a  single  line  of  the  projected 
work ;  and  I  only  have  the  melancholy  pleasure  of  preserving  in  the  Ap- 
pendix,* the  simple  anecdote  on  which  he  proposed  to  found  it. 

To  this  I  may  add,  I  can  easily  conceive  that  there  may  have  brsn  cir- 
cumstances which  ^3ve  a  color  to  the  general  report  of  my  brother  being 
interested  in  these  works ;  and  in  particular  that  it  might  derive  strength 
from  my  having  occasion  to  remit  to  him,  in  consequence  of  certain  family 
transactions,  some  considerable  sums  of  money  about  that  period.  To 
which  it  is  to  be  added  that  if  any  person  chanced  to  evince  particular 
curiosity  on  such  a  subject,  my  brother  was  likely  enough  to  divert  himself 
with  practicing  on  their  credulity 

It  may  be  mentioned  that  while  the  paternity  of  these  novels  was  from 
time  to  time  warmly  disputed  in  Britain,  the  foreign  booksellers  expressec^ 
no  hesitation  on  the  matter,  but  affixed  my  name  to  the;  whole  of  the  Novels, 
and  to  some  besides  to  which  I  had  no  claim. 

The  volumes,  therefore,  to  which  the  present  pages  form  a  Preface,  arf 
entirely  the  composition  of  the  author  by  whom  they  are  now  acknowledgedi 

•  See  appendix.  No.  III«  p.  4SS> 


1 6  GENERAL  PREFACE. 

with  the  exception,  always,  of  avowed  quotations,  and  sucb  unpremeditated 
and  involuntary  plagiarisms  as  can  scarce  be  guarded  against  by  any  one 
who  has  read  and  written  a  great  deal.  The  original  manuscripts  are  all 
in  existence,  and  entirely  written  [horresco  referois)  in  the  author's  own 
hand,  excepting  during  the  years  iSiS  and  1S19,  wlren,  being  affected  witk 
severe  illness,  he  was  obliged  to  employ  the  assistance  of  a  friendly  aman- 
uensis. 

The  number  of  persons  to  whom  the  secret  was  necessarily  intrusted, 
or  communicated  by  chance,  amounted  I  should  think  to  twenty  at  least,  to 
whom  I  am  greatly  obliged  for  the  fidelity  with  which  they  observed  their 
trust,  until  the  derangement  of  the  affairs  of-my  publishers,  Messrs.  Con- 
stable and  Co.,  and  the  exposure  of  their  account  books,  which  was  the 
necessary  consequence,  rendered  secrecy  no  longer  possible.  The  partic- 
ulars attending  the  avowal  have  been  laid  before  the  public  in  the  intro- 
duction to  the  chronicles  of  the  Canongate'. 

The  preliminary  advertisement  has  given  a  sketch  of  the  purpose  of 
this  edition.  I  have  some  reason  to  fear  that  the  notes  which  accompany 
the  tales,  as  now  published,  may  be  thought  too  miscellaneous  and  too 
egotistical.  It  may  be  some  apology  for  this  that  the  publication  wa3 
intended  to  be  posthumous,  and  still  more,  that  old  men  may  be  permitted 
to  speak  long,  because  they  cannot  in  the  course  of  nature  have  long  time 
to  speak.  In  preparing  the  present  edition  I  have  done  all  that  I  can  do 
to  explain  the  nature  of  my  materials,  and  the  use  I  have  made  of  them ; 
nor  is  it  probable  that  I  shall  again  revise  or  even  read  these  tales.  I  was 
therefore  desirous  rather  to  exceed  in  the  portion  of  new  and  explanatory 
matter  which  is  added  to  this  edition,  than  that  the  reader  should  have 
reason  to  complain  that  the  information  communicated  was  of  a  general 
and  merely  nominal  character.  It  remains  to  be  tried  whether  the  public 
(like  a  child  to  whom  a  watch  is  shown)  will,  after  having  been  satiated 
with  looking  at  the  outside,  acquire  some  new  interest  in  the  object  when 
it  is  opened,  and  the  internal  machinery  displayed  to  them. 

That  Waverley  and  its  successors  have  had  their  day  of  favor  and 
popularity  must  be  admitted  with  sincere  gratitude  ;  and  the  author  has 
studied  (with  the  prudence  of  a  beauty  whose  reign  has  been  rather  long) 
to  supply,  by  the  assistance  of  art,  the  charms  which  novelty  no  longer 
affords.  The  publishers  have  endeavored  to  gratify  the  honorable  par- 
tiality of  the  public  for  the  encouragement  of  British  art,  by  illustrating  this 
edition  with  designs  by  the  most  eminent  living  artists. 

To  my  distinguished  countryman,  David  Wilkie,  to  Edwin  Landseer, 
who  has  exercised  his  talents  so  much  on  Scottish  subjects  and  scenery,  to 
Messrs.  Leslie  and  Newton,  my  thanks  are  due,  from  a  friend  as  well  as  an 
author.  Nor  am  I  less  obliged  to  Messrs.  Cooper,  Kidd,  and  other  artists 
of  distinction  to  whom  I  am  less  personally  known,  for  the  ready  zeal  with 
which  they  have  devoted  their  talents  to  the  same  purpose. 

Farther  explanation  respecting  the  Edition  is  the  business  of  the  pub- 
lishers, not  of  the  author ;  and  here,  therefore,  the  latter  has  accomplished 
his  task  of  introduction  and  explanation.  If,  like  a  spoiled  child,  he  has 
sometimes  abused  or  trifled  with  the  indulgence  of  the  public,  he  feels  him- 
self entitled  to  full  belief,  when  he  exculpates  himself  from  the  charge  at 
having  been  at  any  time  insensible  of  their  kindness. 


Abbots  FORD, 
Mt  January,  18391 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  LAST  ENGLISH  EDiTWt^: 


IN  printing  this  New  Edition  of  the  WaverUy  Novels,  th^ 
Publishers  have  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to 
collate  it  careftilly  with  the  valuable  interleaved  copy  in 
their  possession,  containing  the  Author  s  latest  manuscript 
corrections  and  notes ;  and  from  this  source  they  have 
obtained  several  annotations  of  considerable  interest,  not 
hitherto  published.  As  examples  of  some  of  the  more  im- 
portant of  these,  may  be  mentioned  the  notes  on  "  High 
J^inks"  in  Guy  Manneringy*^ Prcetorium^*  in  the  Anti- 
quary, and  the  "  Expulsion  of  the  Scotch  Bishops  "  in  the 
Heart  of  Midlothian. 

There  have  also  been  inserted  {within  brackets)  some 
minor  notes  explanatory  of  references  now  rendered per^ 
haps  somewhat  obscure  by  the  lapse  of  time.  For  these, 
the  Publishers  have  been  chiefly  ittdebted  to  David  Laing. 
LL.D.,  Secretary  of  the  Bawiatyne  Club,  and  07ie  of  the 
few  surviving  friends  of  the  Author. 

Fortunately  there  is  now  little  more  required  in  the  way 
of  annotation  to  the  Waverley  Novels ;  but  in  order  to 
afford  every  facility  of  reference,  a  special  glossary  has 
been  added  to  such  of  the  novels  as  require  it,  and  each 
volume  contains  a  separate  index  :  while  a  General  Index 
has  also  been  appended  to  the  cotu:luding  volume  of  t/i4 
series. 

Edimborgh,  August  15, 1871, 


WAVERLEY; 

OR, 

*TIS    SIXTY    YEARS    SINCE. 


CHAPTER   FIRST. 
INTRODUCTO  R Y. 


The  title  of  this  work  has  not  been  chosen  without  th« 
erave  and  solid  deliberation  which  matters  of  importance  de- 
mand from  the  prudent.  Even  its  first,  or  general  denomina- 
tion, was  the  result  (  no  common  research  or  selection, 
although,  according  to  che  example  of  my  predecessors,  I  had 
only  to  seize  upon  the  most  sounding  and  euphonic  surname 
that  English  history  or  topography  affords,  and  elect  it  at  once 
as  the  title  of  my  work,  and  the  name  of  my  hero.  But,  alasl 
what  could  my  readers  have  expected  from  the  chivalrous  epi- 
thets of  Howard,  Mordaunt,  Mortimer,  or  Stanley,  or  from  the 
softer  and  more  sentimental  sounds  of  Belmour,  Belville,  Bel- 
field,  and  Belgrave,  but  pages  of  inanity,  similar  to  those  which 
have  been  so  mstened  for  half  a  century  past?  I  must 
modestly  admit  am  too  difRdent  of  my  own  merit  to  place  it 
in  unnecessary  opposition  to  preconceived  associations  :  I  have 
therefore,  like  a  maiden  knight  with  his  white  shield,  assumed 
for  my  hero,  Waverley,  an  uncontaminated  name,  bearing  with 
its  sound  little  of  good  or  evil,  excepting  what  the  reader  shall 
hereafter  be  pleased  to  affix  to  it.  But  my  second  or  supple- 
mental title  was  i  matter  of  much  more  difficult  election,  since 
that,  short  as  it  is,  may  be  held  as  pledging  the  author  to  some 
special  mode  of  laying  his  scene,  drawing  his  characters,  and 
managing  his  adventures.  Had  I,  for  example,  announced  in 
my  frontispiece,  "  Waverley,  a  Tale  of  other  Days,"  must  not 
every  novel-reader  have  anticipated  a  castle  scarce  less  than  that 


WAVE  RLE  Y, 

eanguinar)'  violence  against  the  objects  of  its  fury.  Our  ma« 
lignant  feelings,  which  must  seek  gratification  through  more 
hidirect  channels,  and  undermine  the  obstacles  which  they  can- 
not openly  bear  down,  may  be  rather  said  to  be  tinctured  sable. 
But  the  deep-ruling  impulse  is  the  same  in  both  cases ;  and  the 
proud  peer,  who  can  now  only  ruin  his  neighbor  according  to 
law,  by  protracted  suits,  is  the  genuine  descendant  of  the  bargn 
who  wrapped  the  castle  of  his  competitor  in  flames,  and  knocked 
him  on  the  head  as  he  endeavored  to  escape  from  the  confla- 
g  ation.  It  is  from  the  great  book  of  Nature,  the  same  through 
a  thousand  editions,  whether  of  black-letter,  or  wire-wove  and 
h'  (-pressed,  that  I  have  venturously  essayed  to  read  a  chapter 
tc  ^le  public.  Some  favorable  opportunities  of  contrast  have 
hf**^  afforded  me,  by  the  state  of  society  in  the  northern  part 
o(  iiie  island  at  the  period  of  my  history,  and  may  serve  at 
or-ee  to  vary  and  to  illustrate  the  moral  lessons  which  I  would 
vv^'Uingly  consider  as  the  most  important  part  of  my  jDlan, 
although  I  am  sensible  how  short  these  will  fall  of  their  aim, 
i/  t  shall  be  found  unable  to  mix  them  with  amusement, — a 
t«sk  not  quite  so  easy  in  this  critical  generation  as  it  was 
*   'Jixty  Years  Since." 


CHAPTER   SECOND. 

WAVERLEY-HONOUR. — A  RETROSPECT. 

It  is,  then,  sixty  years  since  Edward  Waverley,  the  hero  of 
the  following  pages,  took  leave  of  his  family  to  join  the  regi- 
ment  of  dragoons  in  which  he  had  lately  obtained  a  commis 
sion.  It  was  a  melancholy  day  at  Waverley-Honour  when  the 
young  officer  parted  with  Sir  Everard,  the  affectionate  old 
uncle  to  whose  title  and  estate  he  was  presumptive  heir.  A 
difference  in  political  opinions  had  early  separated  the  baronet 
from  his  younger  brother,  Richard  Waverley,  the  father  of  our 
hero.  Sir  Everard  had  inherited  from  his  sires  the  whole  train 
of  tory  or  high-church  predilections  and  prejudices,  which  had 
distinguished  the  house  of  Waverley  since  the  great  civil  war. 
Richard,  on  the  contrary,  who  was  ten  years  younger,  beheld 
himself  born  to  the  fortune  of  a  second  brother,  and  anticipated 
neither  dignity  nor  entertainment  in  sustaining  the  character  of 
Wfll  Wimble.    He  saw  early,  that  to  succeed  in  the  race  of  life, 


WAyERLEY.  23 

romance  of  chivalry,  nor  a  tale  of  nxgdem  manners ;  that  ray 

hero  will  neither  have  iron  on  his  shJ|j|ders,  as  of  yore,  nor  on 
the  heels  of  his  boots,  as  is  the  present  fashion  of  Bond  Street ; 
and  that  my  damsels  will  neither  be  clothed  "in  purple  and  In 
pall,"  like  the  Lady  Alice  of  an  old  ballad,  nor  reduced  to  the 
primitive  nakedness  of  a  modem  fashionable  at  a  rout.  From 
this  my  choice  of  an  sera  the  understanding  critic  may  farther 
presage,  that  the  object  of  my  tale  is  more  a  description  of  men 
than  manners.  A  tale  of  manners,  to  be  interesting,  must  either 
refer  to  antiquity  so  great  as  to  have  become  venerable,  or  it 
must  bear  a  vivid  reflection  of  those  scenes  which  are  passing 
daily  before  our  eyes,  and  are  interesting  from  their  novelty. 
Thus  the  coat-of-mail  of  our  ancestors,  and  the  triple-furred 
pelisse  of  our  modern  beaux,  may,  though  for  very  different 
reasons,  be  equally  fit  for  the  array  of  a  fictitious  character  j 
but  who,  meaning  the  costume  of  his  hero  to  be  impressive, 
would  willingly  attire  him  in  the  court  dress  of  George  the 
Second's  reign,  with  its  no  collar,  large  sleeves,  and  low  pocket- 
holes  ?  The  same  may  be  urged,  with  equal  truth,  of  the  Go- 
thic hall,  which,  with  its  darkened  and  tinted  windows,  its  ele- 
vated and  gloomy  roof,  and  massive  oaken  table  garnished  with 
boar's-head  and  rosemary,  pheasants  and  peacocks,  cranes  and 
cygnets,  has  an  excellent  effect  in  fictitious  description.  Much 
may  also  be  gained  by  a  lively  display  of  a  modem  fdte,  such 
as  we  have  daily  recorded  in  that  part  of  a  newspaper  entitled 
the  Mirror  of  Fashion,  if  we  contrast  these,  or  either  of  them, 
with  the  splendid  formality  of  an  entertainment  given  Sixty  Years 
Since ;  and  thus  it  will  be  readily  seen  how  much  the  painter 
of  antique  or  of  fashionable  manners  gains  over  him  who  de- 
lineates those  of  the  last  generation. 

Considering  the  disadvantages  inseparable  from  this  part 
of  my  subject,  I  must  be  understood  to  have  resolved  to  avoid 
them  as  much  as  possible,  by  throwing  the  force  of  my  narra- 
tive upon  the  characters  and  passions  of  the  actors ; — those 
passions  common  to  men  in  all  stages  of  society,  and  which 
have  alike  agitated  the  human  heart,  whether  it  throbbed  under 
the  steel  corslet  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  brocaded  coat  ot 
the  eighteenth,  or  the  blue  frock  and  white  dimity  waistcoat  of 
the  present  day.*  Upon  these  passions  it  is  no  doubt  true  that 
the  state  of  manners  and  laws  casts  a  necessary  coloring ;  but 
the  bearings,  to  use  the  language  of  heraldry,  remain  the  same, 
though  the  tincture  may  be  not  only  different,  but  opposed  in 
strong  contradistinction.  The  wrath  of  our  ancestors,  for  ex- 
ample, was  colored  gules ;  it  broke  forth  in  acts  of  open  an^ 


of  Udolpho,  of  which  the  eastern  wing  had  long  been  uninhabited, 
and  the  keys  either  lost  or  consigned  to  the  care  of  some  aged 
butler  or  housekeeper,  whose  trembling  steps,  about  the  middle 
of  the  second  volume,  were  doomed  to  guide  the  hero  or  heroine, 
to  the  ruinous  precincts  ?  Would  not  the  owl  have  shrieked 
and  the  cricket  cried  in  my  very  title-page  ?  and  could  it  have 
been  possible  for  me,  with  a  moderate  attention  to  decorum,  to 
introduce  any  scene  more  lively  than  might  be  produced  by  the 
jocularity  of  a  clownish  but  faithful  valet,  or  the  garrulous  nar- 
rative of  the  heroine's  fiUe-de-chamber,  when  rehearsing  the 
stories  of  blood  and  horror  which  she  had  heard  in  the  servants* 
hall  ?  Again,  had  my  title  borne,  "  Waverle}',  a  Romance  from 
the  German,"  what  head  so  obtuse  as  not  to  image  forth  a  pro- 
fligate abbot,  an  oppressive  duke,  a  secret  and  mysterious  as- 
sociation of  Rosicrusians  and  illuminati,  with  all  their  proper- 
ties of  black  cowls,  caverns,  daggers,  electrical  machines,  trap- 
doors, and  dark-lanterns  ?  Or  if  I  had  rather  chosen  to  call 
my  work  a  "  Sentimental  Tale,"  would  it  not  have  been  a  suffi- 
cient presage  of  a  heroine  with  a  profusion  of  auburn  hair,  and 
a  harp,  the  soft  solace  of  her  solitary  hours,  which  she  fortu- 
nately finds  always  the  means  of  transporting  from  castle  to 
cottage,  although  she  herself  be  sometimes  obliged  to  jump 
out  of  a  two-pair-of-stairs  window,  and  is  more  than  once  be- 
wildered on  her  journey,  alone  and  on  foot,  without  any  guide 
but  a  blowsy  peasant  girl,  whose  jargon  she  hardly  can  under- 
stand ?  Or  again,  if  my  Waverley  had  been  entitled  "  A  Tale 
of  the  Times,"  wouldst  thou  not,  gentle  reader,  have  demanded 
from  me  a  dashing  sketch  of  the  fashionable  world,  a  few  anec- 
dotes of  private  scandal  thinly  veiled,  and  if  lusciously  painted, 
so  much  the  better  ?  a  heroine  from  Grosvenor  Square,  and  a 
hero  from  the  Barouche  Club,  or  the  Four-in-Hand,  with  a  set 
of  subordinate  characters  from  the  elegantes  of  Queen  Anne 
Street  East,  or  the  dashing  heroes  of  the  Bow  Street  Office  ? 
I  could  proceed  in  proving  the  importance  of  a  title-page,  and 
displaying  at  the  same  time  my  own  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
particular  ingredients  necessary  to  the  composition  of  romances 
and  novels  of  various  descriptions  :  But  it  is  enough,  and  I 
scorn  to  tyrannize  longer  over  the  impatience  of  my  reader, 
who  is  doubtless  already  anxious  to  know  the  choice  made  by 
an  author  so  profoundly  versed  in  the  different  branches  of 
his  art. 

By  fixing,  then,  the  date  of  my  story  Sixty  Years  before 
this  present  ist  November,  1805,  I  would  have  my  readers  un- 
derstand that  they  will  meet  in  the  following  pages  neither  a 


iMAVEHLEY.  ^ 

it  was  necessary  that  he  should  carry  as  little  weight  as  possible. 
Painters  talk  of  the  difficulty  of  expressing  the  existence  of 
compound  passions  in  the  same  features  at  the  same  moment : 
It  would  be  no  less  difficult  for  the  moralist  to  analyze  tha 
mixed  motives  which  unite  to  form  the  impulse  of  our  actions. 
Richard  Waverley  read  and  satisfied  himself  from  history  and 
sound  argument  that,  in  the  words  of  the  old  song. 

Passive  obedience  was  a  jest, 
And  pshaw  1  was  non-resistance; 

yet  reason  would  have  probably  been  unable  to  combat  and  re- 
move hereditary  prejudice,  could  Richard  have  anticipated  that 
his  elder  brother,  Sir  Everard,  taking  to  heart  an  early  disap- 
pointment, would  have  remained  a  bachelor  at  seventy-two. 
The  prospect  of  succession,  however  remote,  might  in  that  case, 
have  led  him  to  endure  dragging  through  the  greater  part  of 
his  life  as  "  Master  Richard  at  the  Hall,  the  baronet's  brother," 
in  the  hope  that  ere  its  conclusion  he  should  be  distinguished 
as  Sir  Richard  Waverley  of  Waverley-Honour,  successor  to  a 
princely  estate,  and  to  extend  political  connections  as  head  of 
the  county  interest  in  the  shire  where  it  lay.  But  this  was  a 
consummation  of  things  not  to  be  expected  at  Richard's  outset, 
when  Sir  Everard  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  certain  to  be  an 
acceptable  suitor  in  almost  any  family,  whether  wealth  or 
beauty  should  be  the  object  of  his  pursuit,  and  when,  indeed, 
his  speedy  marriage  was  a  report  which  regularly  amused  the 
neighborhood  once  a  year.  His  younger  brother  saw  no  praC' 
ticable  road  to  independence  save  that  of  relying  upon  his 
own  exertions,  and  adopting  a  political  creed  more  consonant 
both  to  reason  and  his  own  interest  than  the  hereditary  faith 
of  Sir  Everard  in  High  Church,  and  in  the  house  of  Stuart 
He  therefore  read  his  recantation  at  the  beginning  of  his 
career,  and  entered  life  as  an  avowed  whig,  and  friend  of  the 
Hanover  succession. 

The  ministry  of  George  the  First's  time  were  prudently 
anxious  to  dhninish  the  phalanx  of  opposition.  The  torj 
nobility,  depending  for  their  reflected  lustre  upon  the  sunshine 
of  a  court,  had  for  some  time  been  gradually  reconciling  them- 
selves to  the  new  dynasty.  But  the  wealthy  country  gentle- 
men of  England,  a  rank  which  retained,  with  much  of  ancient 
manners  and  primitive  integrity,  a  great  proportion  of  obstinate 
and  unyielding  prejudice,  stood  aloof  in  haughty  and  sullen 
opposition,  and  cast  many  a  look  of  mingled  regret  and  hope 
to  Bois  le  Due,  Avignon,  and  Italy.^    The  accession  of  the 


26  IVAVERLBY. 

near  relation  of  one  of  these  steady  and  inflexible  opponentf 
was  considered  as  a  means  of  bringing  over  more  converts,  and 
tlierefore  Richard  Waverley  met  with  a  share  of  ministerial 
favor,  more  than  proportioned  to  his  talents  or  his  poUtical 
importance.  It  was,  however,  discovered  that  he  had  respect* 
able  talents  for  public  business,  and  the  first  admittance  to  the 
minister's  levee  being  negotiated,  his  success  became  rapid. 
Sir  Everard  learned  from  the  public  News  Letter,  first,  that 
Richard  Waverley,  Esquire,  was  returned  for  the  ministerial 
borough  of  Barterfaith ;  next,  that  Richard  Waverley,  Esquire, 
had  taken  a  distinguished  part  in  the  debate  upon  the  Excise 
Bill  in  the  support  of  government ;  and,  lastly,  that  Richard 
Waverley,  Esquire,  had  been  honored  with  a  seat  at  one  of 
those  boards,  where  the  pleasure  of  serving  the  country  is 
combined  with  other  important  gratifications,  which,  to  render 
them  the  more  acceptable,  occur  regularly  once  a  quarter. 

Although  these  events  followed  each  other  so  closely,  that 
the  sagacity  of  the  editor  of  a  modern  newspaper  would  have 
presaged  the  two  last  even  while  he  announced  the  first,  yet 
they  came  upon  Sir  Everard  gradually,  and  drop  by  drop,  as  it 
were,  distilled  through  the  cool  and  procrastinating  alembic  of 
Dyer's  Weekly  Letter.^  For  it  may  be  observed  in  passing, 
that,  instead  of  those  mail-coaches,  by  means  of  which  every 
mechanic  at  his  sixpenny  club  may  nightly  learn  from  twenty 
contradictory  channels  the  yesterday's  news  of  the  capital,  a 
weekly  post  brought  in  those  days,  to  Waverley-Honour,  a 
Weekly  Intelligencer,  which,  after  it  had  gratified  Sir  Everard's 
curiosity,  his  sister's,  and  that  of  his  aged  butler,  was  regularly 
transferred  from  the  hall  to  the  rectory,  from  the  rectory  to 
Squire  Stubb's  at  the  Grange,  from  the  squire  to  the  baronet's 
steward  at  his  neat  white  house  on  the  heath,  from  the  steward 
to  the  bailiff,  and  from  him  through  a  huge  circle  of  honest 
dames  and  gaffers,  by  whose  hard  and  horny  hands  it  was 
generally  worn  to  pieces  in  about  a  month  after  its  arrival. 

This  slow  succession  of  intelligence  was  of  some  advantage 
to  Richard  Waverley  in  the  case  before  us  ;  for,  had  the  sum 
total  of  his  enormities  reached  the  ears  of  Sir  Everard  at  once, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  new  commissioner  would  have 
had  little  reason  to  pique  himself  on  the  success  of  his  politics. 
The  baronet,  although  the  mildest  of  human  beings,  was  not 
without  sensitive  points  in  his  character  ;  his  brother's  conduct 
had  wounded  these  deeply  ;  the  Waverley  estate  was  fettered 
by  no  entail  (for  it  had  never  entered  into  the  head  of  any  of 
its  former  possessors  that  one  of  their  progeny  could  be  guilty 


1VAVMRLBY. 


27 


of  the  atrocities  laid  by  Dyer*s  Letter  to  the  door  of  Richard), 
and  if  it  had,  the  marriage  of  the  proprietor  might  have  been 
fatal  to  a  collateral  heir.  These  various  ideas  floated  through 
the  brain  of  Sir  Everard,  without,  however,  producing  any 
determined  conclusion. 

He  examined  the  tree  of  his  genealogy,  which,  emblazoned 
with  many  an  emblematic  mark  of  honor  and  heroic  achieve- 
ment, hung  upon  the  well-varnished  wainscot  of  his  hall.     The 
nearest  descendants  of  Sir  Hildebrand  Waverley,  failing  those 
of  his  eldest  son  Wilfred,  of  whom  Sir  Everard  and  his  brother 
were  the  only  representatives,  were,  as  this  honored  register 
informed  him  (and  indeed,  as  he  himself  well  knew),  the  Wa- 
verleys  of  Highley  Park,  com.  Hants ;  with  whom  the  main 
branch,  or  rather  stock,  of  the  house  had  renounced  all  connec- 
tion, since  the  great  law-suit  in  1670.     This  degenerate  scion 
had  committed  a  farther  offence  against  the  head  and  source 
of  their  gentility,  by  the  intermarriage  of  their  representative 
with  Judith,  heiress  of  Oliver  Bradshawe,  of  Highley  Park, 
whose  arms,  the  same  with  those  of  Bradshawe  the  regicide, 
they  had  quartered  with  the  ancient  coat  of  Waverley.     These 
offences,  however,  had  vanished  from  Sir  Everard's  recollection 
in  the  heat  of  his  resentment,  and  had  Lawyer  Clippurse,  for 
whom  his  groom  was  despatched  express,  arrived  but  an  hour 
earlier,  he  might  have  had  the  benefit  of  drawing  a  new  settle- 
ment of  the  lordship  and  manor  of  Waverley-Honour,  with 
all  its  dependencies.     But  an  hour  of  cool  reflection  is  a  great 
matter,  when  employed  in  weighing  the  comparative  evil  of 
two  measures,  to  neither  of  which  we  are  internally  partial. 
Lawyer  Clippurse  found  his  patron  involved  in  a  deep  study, 
which  he  was  too  respectful  to  disturb,  otherwise,  than  by  pro- 
ducing his  paper  and  leathern  ink-case,  as  prepared  to  minute 
his  honor's  commands.     Even  this  slight  manoeuvre  was  em- 
barrassing to  Sir  Everard,  who  felt  it  as  a  reproach  to  his  inde- 
cision.    He  looked  at  the  attorney  with  some  desire  to  issue 
his  fiat,  when  the  sun,  emerging  from   behind  a  cloud,  poured 
at  once  its  checkered  light  through  the  stained  window  of  the 
gloomy  cabinet  in  which  they  were  seated.     The  baronet's  eye, 
as  he  raised  it  to  the  splendor,  fell  right  upon  the  central 
scutcheon,  impressed  with  the  same  device  which  his  ancestor 
was  said  to  have  borne  in  the  field  of  Hastings  ;  three  ermines 
passant,  argent,  in  a  field  azure,  with  its  appropriate  motto, 
sans  tache.     "  May  our  name   rather  perish,"  exclaimed  Sit 
Everard,  "  than  that  ancient  and  loyal  symbol  should  be  blended 
with  the  dishonored  insignia  of  a  traitorous  roaiid-l»«»«d  I  ** 


28  WAt'ERLEY. 

All  this  was  the  effect  of  the  glimpse  of  a  sunbeam  just 
sufficient  to  light  Lawyer  Clippurse  to  mend  his  pen.  The  pen 
was  mended  in  vain.  The  attorney  was  dismissed,  with  direc- 
tions to  hold  himself  in  readiness  on  the  first  summons. 

The  apparition  of  Lawyer  Clippurse  at  the  Hall  occasioned 
much  speculation  in  that  portion  of  the  world  to  which  Waverley- 
Honour  formed  the  centre  :  But  the  more  judicious  politicians 
of  this  microcosm  augured  yet  worse  consequences  to  Richard 
Waverley  from  a  movement  which  shortly  followed  his  apostacy. 
This  was  no  less  than  an  excursion  of  the  baronet  in  his  coach 
and  six,  with  four  attendants  in  rich  liveries,  to  make  a  visit  of 
some  duration  to  a  noble  peer  on  the  confines  of  the  shire,  of 
untainted  descent,  steady  tory  principles,  and  the  happy  father 
of  six  unmarried  and  accomplished  daughters.  Sir  Everard's 
reception  in  this  family  was,  as  it  may  be  easily  conceived, 
sufficiently  favorable  ;  but  of  the  six  young  ladies,  his  taste 
unfortunately  determined  him  in  favor  of  Lady  Emily,  the 
youngest,  who  received  his  attentions  with  an  embarrassment 
which  showed  at  once,  that  she  durst  not  decline  them,  and 
that  they  afiforded  her  anything  but  pleasure.  Sir  Everard 
could  not  but  perceive  something  uncommon  in  the  restrained 
emotions  which  the  young  lady  testified  at  the  advances  he 
hazarded  ;  but  assured  by  the  prudent  countess  that  they  were 
the  natural  effects  of  a  retired  education,  the  sacrifice  might 
have  been  completed,  as  doubtless  has  happened  in  many 
similar  instances,  had  it  not  been  for  the  courage  of  an  elder 
sister,  who  revealed  to  the  wealthy  suitor  that  Lady  Emily's 
affections  were  fixed  upon  a  young  soldier  of  fortune,  a  near 
relation  of  her  own.  Sir  Everard  manifested  great  emotion  on 
receiving  this  intelligence,  which  was  confirmed  to  him,  in  a 
j)rivate  interview,  by  the  young  lady  hersel^,  although  under 
the  most  dreadful  apprehensions  of  her  father's  indignation. 
Honor  and  generosity  were  hereditary  attributes  of  the  house 
of  Waverley.  With  a  grace  and  delicacy  worthy  the  hero  of  a 
romance.  Sir  Everard  withdrew  his  claim  to  the  hand  of  Lady 
Emily.  He  had  even,  before  leaving  BlandeviHe  Castle,  the 
address  to  extort  from  her  father  a  consent  to  her  union  with 
the  object  of  her  choice.  What  arguments  he  used  on  this 
point  cannot  exactly  be  known,  for  Sir  Eveia'"d  was  never 
supposed  strong  in  the  powers  of  persuasion  ;  hut  the  young 
officer,  immediately  after  this  transaction,  rose  in  the  army 
with  a  rapidity  far  surpassing  the  usual  pace  of  r^op^tronized 
professional  merit,  although,  to  outward  appearans^,  that  was 
^U  he  had  to  depend  upon. 


WAVERLEY.  29 

The  shock  which  Sir  Everard  encountered  upon  this  occa. 
sion,  although  diminished- by  the  consciousness  of  having  acted 
virtuously  and  generously,  had  its  effect  upon  his  future  life. 
His  resolution  of  marriage  had  been  adopted  in  a  fit  of  indigna- 
tion ;  the  labor  of  courtship  did  not  quite  suit  the  dignified  in- 
dolence  of  his  habits ;  he  had  but  just  escaped  the  risk  of 
marrying  a  woman  who  could  never  love  him,  and  his  pride 
could  not  be  greatly  flattered  by  the  termination  of  his  amour, 
even  if  his  heart  had  not  suffered.  The  result  of  the  whole 
matter' was  his  return  to  Waverley-Honour  without  any  transfer 
of  his  affections,  notwithstanding  the  sighs  and  languishments 
of  the  fair  tell-tale,  who  had  revealed,  in  mere  sisterly  affection, 
the  secret  of  Lady  Emily's  attachment,  and  in  despite  of  the 
nods,  v.'inks,  and  innuendoes  of  the  officious  lady  mother,  and 
the  grave  eulogiums  which  the  earl  pronounced  successively  on 
the  prudence,  and  good  sense,  and  admirable  dispositions  of 
his  first,  second,  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  daughters.  The 
memory  of  his  unsuccessful  amour  was  with  Sir  Everard,  as 
with  many  more  of  his  temjDcr,  at  once  shy,  proud,  sensitive, 
and  indolent,  a  beacon  against  exposing  himself  to  similar 
mortification,  pain,  and  fruitless  exertion  for  the  time  to  come. 
He  continued  to  live  at  Waverley-Honour  in  the  style  of  an  old 
English  gentleman,  of  an  ancient  descent  and  opulent  fortune. 
His  sister,  Miss  Rachel  Waverley,  presided  at  his  table,  and  they 
became,  by  degrees,  an  old  bachelor  and  an  ancient  maiden 
lady,  the  gentlest  and  kindest  of  the  votaries  of  celibacy. 

The  vehemence  of  Sir  Everard's  resentment  against  his 
brother  was  but  short-lived  ;  yet  his  dislike  to  the  whig  and 
the  placeman,  though  unable  to  stimulate  him  to  resume  any 
active  measures  prejudicial  to  Richard's  interest,  in  the  suc- 
cession to  the  family  estate,  continued  to  maintain  the  coldness 
between  them.  Richard  knew  enough  of  the  world,  and  of  his 
brother's  temper,  to  believe  that  by  any  ill-considered  or  pre- 
cipitate advances  on  his  part,  he  might  turn  passive  dislike 
into  a  more  active  principle.  It  was  accident,  therefore,  which 
at  length  occasioned  a  renewal  of  their  intercourse.  Richard 
had  married  a  young  woman  of  rank,  by  whose  family  interest 
and  private  fortune  he  hoped  to  advance  his  career.  In  her 
right,  he  became  possessor  of  a  manor  of  some  value,  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  miles  from  Waverley-Honour, 

Little  Edward,  the  hero  of  our  tale,  then  in  his  fifth  year, 
was  their  only  child.  It  chanced  that  the  infant  with  his  maid 
had  strayed  one  morning  to  a  mile's  distance  from  the  avenue 
of  Brere-wood  Lodge,  his  father's  seat.     Their  attention  wag 


30  WAVE  I? LEV. 

attracted  bj-  a  carnage  drawn  by  six  stately  long-tailed  black 
horses,  and  with  as  much  carving  and  gilding  as  would  have 
done  honor  to  my  lord  mayor's.  It  was  waiting  for  the  owner, 
who  was  at  a  little  distance  inspecting  the  progress  of  a  half- 
built  farm-house.  I  know  not  whether  the  boy's  nurse  had 
been  a  Welsh  or  a  Scotch  woman,  or  in  what  manner  he  asso- 
ciated a  shield  emblazoned  with  three  ermines  with  the  idea  of 
personal  property,  but  he  no  sooner  beheld  this  family  emblem, 
than  he  stoutly  determined  on  vindicating  his  right  to  the 
splendid  vehicle  on  which  it  was  displayed.  The  baronet 
arrived  while  the  boy's  maid  was  in  vain  endeavoring  to  make 
him  desist  from  his  determination  to  appropriate  the  gilded 
coach  and  six.  The  rencontre  was  at  a  happy  moment  for  Ed- 
ward, as  his  uncle  had  been  just  eyeing  wistfully,  with  some- 
thing of  a  feeling  like  envy,  the  chubby  boys  of  the  stout  yeo- 
man whose  miansion  was  building  by  his  direction.  In  the 
round-faced  rosy  chei"ub  before  him,  bearing  his  eye  and  his 
name,  and  vindicating  a  hereditary  title  to  his  family,  affection 
and  patronage,  by  means  of  a  tie  which  Sir  Everard  held  as 
sacred  as  either  Garter  or  Blue-mantle,  Providence  seemed  to 
have  granted  to  him  the  very  object  best  calculated  to  fill  up 
the  void  in  his  hopes  and  affections.  Sir  Everard  returned  to 
Waverley-Hall  upon  a  led  horse,  which  was  kept  in  readiness 
for  him,  while  the  child  and  his  attendant  were  sent  home  in 
the  carriage  to  Brere-wood  Lodge,  with  such  a  message  as 
opened  to  Richard  Waverley  a  door  of  reconciliation  with  his 
elder  brother. 

Their  intercourse,  however,  though  thus  renewed,  contin- 
ued to  be  rather  formal  and  civil,  than  partaking  of  brotherly 
cordiality;  yet  it  was  sufficient  to  the  wishes  of  both  parties. 
Sir  Everard  obtained,  in  the  frequent  society  of  his  little 
nephew,  something  on  which  his  hereditary  pride  might  found 
the  anticipated  pleasure  of  a  continuation  of  his  lineage,  and 
where  his  kind  and  gentle  affections  could  at  the  same  time 
fully  exercise  themselves.  For  Richard  Waverley,  he  beheld  in 
the  growing  attachment  between  the  uncle  and  nephew  the 
means  of  securing  his  son's,  if  not  his  own,  succession  to  the 
hereditary  estate,  which  he  felt  would  be  rather  endangered 
than  promoted  by  any  attempt  on  his  own  part  towards  a  closer 
intimacy  with  a  man  of  Sir  Everard's  habits  and  opinions. 

Thus,  by  a  sort  of  tacit  compromise,  little  Edward  was  per- 
mitted to  pass  the  greater  part  of  the  year  at  the  Hall,  and  ap- 
peared to  stand  in  the  same  intimate  relation  to  both  families, 
although  their  mutual  intercourse    was  otherwise  limited  to 


U^AVERLBY, 


zt 


formal  messages,  and  more  formal  visits.  The  education  of 
the  youth  was  regulated  alternately  by  the  taste  and  opinions 
of  his  uncle  and  of  his  father.  But  more  of  this  in  a  subse- 
quent chapter. 


CHAPTER   THIRD. 

EDUCATION. 


The  education  of  our  hero,  Edward  Waverley,  was  of  a: 
nature  somewhat  desultory.  In  infancy  his  health  suffered,  or 
was  supposed  to  suffer  (which  is  quite  the  same  thing),  by  the 
air  of  London.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  official  duties,  attend- 
ance on  parliament,  or  the  prosecution  of  any  of  his  plans  of 
interest  or  ambition,  called  his  father  to  town,  which  was  his 
usual  residence  for  eight  months  in  the  year,  Edward  was 
transferred  to  Waverley-Honour,  and  experienced  a  total  change 
of  instructors  and  of  lessons,  as  well  as  of  residence.  This 
might  have  been  remedied,  had  his  father  placed  him  under 
the  superintendence  of  a  permanent  tutor.  But  he  considered 
that  one  of  his  choosing  would  probably  have  been  unaccepta- 
ble at  Waverley-Honour,  and  that  such  a  selection  as  Sir  Everard 
might  have  made,  were  the  matter  left  to  him,  would  have  bur- 
dened him  with  a  disagreeable  inmate,  if  nof  a  political  spy,  in 
his  family.  He  therefore  prevailed  upon  his  private  secretary, 
a  young  man  of  taste  and  accomplishments,  to  bestow  an  hour 
or  two  on  Edward's  education  while  at  Brere-wood  Lodge,  and 
left  his  uncle  answerable  for  his  improvement  in  literature  while 
an  inmate  at  the  Hall. 

This  was  in  some  degree  respectably  provided  for.  Sir 
Everard's  chaplain,  an  Oxonian,  who  had  lost  his  fellowship 
for  declining  to  take  the  oaths  of  the  accession  of  George  I. 
was  not  only  an  excellent  classical  scholar,  but  reasonably 
skilled  in  science,  and  master  of  most  modern  languages.  He 
was,  however,  old  and  indulgent,  and  the  recurring  interregnum, 
during  which  Edward  was  entirely  freed  from  his  discipline, 
occasioned  such  a  relaxation  of  authority,  that  the  youth  was 
permitted,  in  a  great  measure,  to  learn  as  he  pleased,  what  he 
pleased,  and  when  he  pleased.  This  slackness  of  rule  might 
have  been  ruinous  to  a  boy  of  slow  understanding,  who,  feeling 


J,  1VAVERLEY. 

labor  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  would  have  altogethei 
neglected  it,  save  for  the  command  of  a  task-master ;  and  it 
might  have  proved  equally  dangerous  to  a  youth  whose  animal 
spirits  were  more  powerful  than  his  imagination  or  his  feelings, 
and  whom  the  irresistible  influence  of  Alma  would  have  en- 
gaged in  field  sports,  from  morning  till  night.  But  the  char- 
acter of  Edward  Waverley  was  remote  from  either  of  these.  His 
powers  of  apprehension  were  so  uncommonly  quick,  as  almost 
to  resemble  intuition,  and  the  chief  care  of  his  preceptor  was  to 
prevent  him,  as  a  sportsman  would  phrase  it,  from  overrun- 
ning his  game,  that  is,  from  acquiring  his  knowledge  in  a  slight, 
flimsy,  and  inadequate  manner.  And  here  the  instructor  had 
to  combat  another  propensity  too  often  united  with  brilliancy 
of  fancy  and  vivacity  of  talent, — that  indolence,  namely,  of  dis< 
position,  which  can  only  be  stirred  by  some  strong  motive  of 
gratification,  and  which  renounces  study  as  soon  as  curiosity  is 
gratified,  the  pleasure  of  conquering  the  first  difficulties  ex- 
hausted, and  the  novelty  of  pursuit  at  an  end.  Edward  would 
throw  himself  with  spirit  upon  any  classical  author  of  which  his 
preceptor  proposed  the  perusal,  make  himself  master  of  the 
style  so  far  as  to  understand  the  story,-  and  if  that  pleased  or 
interested  him,  he  finished  the  volume.  But  it  was  in  vain  to 
attempt  fixing  his  attention  on  critical  distinctions  of  philology, 
upon  the  difference  of  idiom,  the  beauty  of  felicitous  expres- 
sion, or  the  artificial  combinations  of  syntax.  *'  I  can  read  and 
understand  a  Latin  author,"  said  young  Edward,  with  the  self- 
confidence  and  rash  reasoning  of  fifteen,  "  and  Scaliger  or 
Bentley  could  not  do  much  more."  Alas  1  while  he  was  thus 
permitted  to  read  only  for  the  gratification  of  his  amusement, 
he  foresaw  not  that  he  was  losing  forever  the  opportunity  of 
acquiring  habits  of  firm  and  assiduous  application,  of  gaining 
the  art  of  controlling,  directing,  and  concentrating  the  powers 
of  his  mind  for  earnest  investigation, — an  art  far  more  essen- 
tial than  even  that  intimate  acquaintance  with  classical  learning 
which  is  the  primary  object  of  study. 

I  am  aware  I  maybe  here  reminded  of  the  necessity  of  ren- 
dering instruction  agreeable  to  youth,  and  of  Tasso's  infusion 
of  honey  into  the  medicine  prepared  for  a  child  ;  but  an  age  in 
which  children  are  taught  the  dryest  doctrines  by  the  insinuat- 
ing method  of  instructing  games,  has  little  reason  to  dread  the 
consequences  of  study  being  rendered  too  serious  or  severe. 
The  History  of  England  is  now  reduced  to  a  game  at  cards, 
the  problems  of  mathematics  to  puzzles  and  riddles,  and  the 
doctrines  of  arithmetic  may,  we  are  assured,  be  sufficiently  ac- 


WAVER  LEY.  3f 

t 

quired  by  spending  a  few  hours  a  week  at  a  new  and  compli- 
cated edition  of  the  Royal  Game  of  the  Goose.  There  wants 
but  one  step  further,  and  the  Creed  and  Ten  Commandments 
may  be  taught  in  the  same  manner  without  the  necessity  of  the 
grave  face,  deliberate  tone  of  recital,  and  devout  attention, 
hitherto  exacted  from  the  well-governed  childhood  of  this 
realm.  It  may  in  the  mean  time  be  subject  of  serious  consider- 
ation, whether  those  who  are  accustomed  only  to  acquire  in- 
struction through  the  medium  of  amusement,  may  not  ba 
brought  to  reject  that  which  approaches  under  the  aspect  of 
study  ;  whether  those  who  learn  history  by  the  cards,  may  not 
be  led  to  prefer  the  means  to  the  end ;  and  whether,  were  we 
lo  teach  religion  in  the  way  of  sport,  our  pupils  may  not  thereby 
be  gradually  induced  to  make  sport  of  their  religion.  To  our 
■young  hero,  who  was  permitted  to  seek  his  instruction  only  ac- 
^tording  to  the  bent  of  his  own  mind,  and  who,  of  consequence, 
i^nly  sought  it  so  long  as  it  afforded  him  amusement,  the  indul- 
gence of  his  tutors  was  attended  with  evil  consequences,  which 
long  continued  to  influence  his  character,  happiness,  and  util- 
ity. Edward's  power  of  imagination  and  love  of  literature, 
although  the  former  was  vivid,  and  the  latter  ardent,  were  so 
far  from  affording  a  remedy  to  this  peculiar  evil,  that  they 
rather  inflamed  and  increased  its  violence.  The  library  at 
Waverley-Honour,  a  large  Gothic  room,  with  double  arches  and 
a  gallery,  contained  such  a  miscellaneous  and  extensive  collec- 
tion of  volumes  as  had  been  assembled  together,  during  the 
course  of  two  hundred  years,  by  a  family  which  had  been  al- 
ways wealthy,  and  inclined,  of  course,  as  a  mark  of  splendor, 
to  furnish  their  shelves  with  the  current  literature  of  the  day, 
without  much  scrutiny,  or  nicety  of  discrimination.  Through- 
out this  ample  realm  Edward  was  permitted  to  roam  at  large. 
His  tutor  had  his  own  studies  ;  and  church  politics  and  con- 
troversial divinity,  together  with  a  love  of  learned  ease,  though 
they  did  not  withdraw  his  attention  at  stated  times  from  the 
progress  of  his  patron's  presumptive  heir,  induced  him  readily 
to  grasp  at  any  apology  for  not  extending  a  strict  and  regulated 
survey  towards  his  general  studies.  Sir  Everard  had  never 
been  himself  a  student,  and,  like  his  sister.  Miss  Rachel  Wa- 
verley,  held  the  common  doctrine,  that  idleness  is  incompatible 
with  reading  of  any  kind,  and  that  the  mere  tracing  the  alpha- 
betical characters  with  the  eye,  is  in  itself  a  useful  and  merito* 
rious  task,  without  scrupulously  considering  what  ideas  or  doo 
trine§  they  may  happen  to  convey.  With  a  desire  of  amuse* 
ment  therefore,  whigb  bettej^i^Dline  might  soon  have  coor 


34  tVAVERLEY. 

verted  into  a  tliirst  tor  knowledge,  young  Waverley  drovo 
through  the  sea  of  books,  like  a  vessel  without  a  pilot  or  a 
rudder.  Nothing  perhaps  increases  by  indulgence  more  than 
a  desultory  habit  of  reading,  especially  under  such  opportuni- 
ties of  gratifying  it.  I  believe  one  reason  why  such  numerous 
instances  of  erudition  occur  among  the  lower  rank  is,  that,  with 
the  same  powers  of  mind,  the  poor  student  is  limited  to  a  nar- 
row circle  for  indulging  his  passion  for  books,  and  must  neces- 
sarily make  himself  master  of  the  few  he  possesses  ere  he  can 
acquire  more.  Edward,  on  the  contrary,  like  the  epicure  who 
only  deigned  to  take  a  single  morsel  from  the  sunny  side  of  a 
peach,  read  no  volume  a  moment  after  it  ceased  to  excite  his 
curiosity  of  interest ;  and  it  necessarily  happened,  that  the 
habit  of  seeking  only  this  sort  of  gratification  rendered  it  daily 
more  difficult  of  attainment,  till  the  passion  for  reading,  like 
other  strong  appetites,  produced  by  indulgence  a  sort  of  satiety. 
Ere  he  attained  this  indifference,  however,  he  had  read  and 
stored  in  a  memory  of  uncommon  tenacity,  much  curious, 
though  ill-arranged  and  miscellaneous  information.  In  English 
literature  he  was  master  of  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  of  our  earlier 
dramatic  authors,  of  many  picturesque  and  interesting  passages 
from  our  old  historical  chronicles,  and  was  particularly  well  ac- 
quainted with  Spenser,  Dvayton,  and  other  poets  who  have  exer- 
cised themselves  on  romantic  fiction,  of  all  themes  the  most 
fascinating  to  a  youthful  imagination,  before  the  passions  have 
roused  themselves,  and  demand  poetry  of  a  more  sentimental 
description.  In  this  respect  his  acquaintance  with  Italian 
opened  him  yet  a  wider  range.  He  had  perused  the  numerous 
romantic  poems,  which,  from  the  days  of  Pulci,  have  been  a 
favorite  exercise  of  the  wits  of  Italy,  and  had  sought  gratification 
in  the  numerous  collections  of  novelle  which  were  brought  forth 
by  the  genius  of  that  elegant  though  luxurious  nation,  in  emula- 
tion of  the  Decameron.  In  classical  literature,  Waverley  had 
made  the  usual  progress,  and  read  the  usual  authors  ;  and  the 
French  had  afforded  him  an  almost  exhaustless  collection  of 
memoirs,  scarcely  more  faithful  than  romances,  and  of  romances 
so  well  written  as  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  memoirs. 
The  splendid  pages  of  Froissart,  with  his  heart-stirring  and  eye- 
dazzling  descriptions  of  war  and  of  tournaments,  were  among 
his  chief  favorites  ;  and  from  those  of  Brantome  and  De  la 
Noue  he  learned  to  compare  the  wild  and  loose,  yet  supersti- 
tious character  of  the  nobles  of  the  League,  with  the  stem, 
rigid,  and  sometimes  turbulent  disposition  of  the  Huguenot 
party.     The  Spanish  had  contributed  to  his  stock  of  chivalrous 


WAVER  LEY. 


35 


and  romantic  lore.  The  earlier  literature  of  the  northern  na- 
tions did  not  escape  the  study  of  one  who  read,  rather  to 
awaken  the  imagination  than  to  benefit  the  understanding. 
And  yet,  knowing  much  that  is  known  but  to  few,  Edward 
Waverley  might  justly  be  considered  as  ignorant  since  he  knew 
little  of  what  adds  dignity  to  man,  and  qualifies  him  to  support 
and  adorn  an  elevated  situation  in  society. 

The  occasional  attention  of  his  parents  might  indeed  have 
been  of  service,  to  prevent  the  dissipation  of  mind  incidental 
to  such  a  desultory  course  of  reading.  But  his  mother  died  in 
the  seventh  year  after  the  reconciliation  between  the  brothers, 
and  Richard  Waverley  himself,  who,  after  this  event,  resided 
more  constantly  in  London,  was  too  much  interested  in  his  own 
plans  of  wealth  and  ambition,  to  notice  more  respecting  Ed- 
ward, than  that  he  was  of  a  very  bookish  turn,  and  probably 
destined  to  be  a  bishop.  If  he  could  have  discovered  and 
analyzed  his  son's  waking  dreams,  he  would  have  formed  a  very 
different  conclusion. 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

CASTLE-BUI  LDING. 


I  HAVE  already  hinted,  that  the  dainty,  squeamish,  and 
fastidious  taste  acquired  by  a  surfeit  of  idle  reading,  had  r^ot 
only  rendered  our  hero  unfit  for  serious  and  sober  study,  but 
had  even  disgusted  him  in  some  degree  with  that  in  which  he 
had  hitherto  indulged.  He  was  in  his  sixteenth  year,  when  his 
habits  of  abstraction  and  love  of  solitude  became  so  much 
marked,  as  to  excite  Sir  Everard's  affectionate  apprehension. 
He  tried  to  counterbalance  these  propensities,  by  engaging  his 
nephew  in  field-sports,  which  had  been  the  chief  pleasure  of  his 
own  youthful  days.  But  although  Edward  eagerly  carried  the 
gun  for  one  season,  yet  when  practice  had  given  him  some  dex- 
terity, the  pastime  ceased  to  afford  him  amusement.  In  the 
succeeding  spring,  the  perusal  of  old  Isaac  Walton's  fascinating 
volume  determined  lidward  to  become  "  a  brother  of  the  angle." 
But  of  all  diversions  which  ingenuity  ever  devised  for  the  relief 
of  idleness,  fishing  is  the  worst  qualified  to  amuse  a  man  who 
is  at  once  indolent  and  impatient ;  and  our  hero's  rod  was 


36  WAVERLEY. 

speedily  flung  aside.  Society  and  example,  which,  more  than 
any  other  motives,  master  and  sway  the  natural  bent  of  our 
passions,  might  have  had  their  usual  effect  upon  the  youthful 
visionary.  But  the  neighborhood  was  thinly  inhabited,  and  the 
home-bred  voung  squires  whom  it  afforded,  were  not  of  a  class 
fit  to  form  Edward's  usual  companions,  far  less  to  excite  him 
to  emulation  in  the  practice  of  those  pastimes  which  composed 
the  serious  business  of  their  lives. 

There  were  a  few  other  youths  of  better  education,  and  a 
more  liberal  character,  but  from  their  society  also  our  hero  was 
in  some  degree  excluded.  .Sir  Everard  had,  upon  the  death  of 
Queen  Anne,  resigned  his  seat  in  parliament,  and  as  his  age 
increased  and  the  number  of  his  contemporaries  diminished, 
had  gradually  withdrawn  himself  from  society  ;  so  that,  when, 
upon  any  particular  occasion,  Edward  mingled  with  accom- 
plished and  well-educated  young  men  of  his  own  rank  and  ex- 
pectations, he  felt  an  inferiority  in  their  company,  not  so  much 
from  deficiency  of  information,  as  from  the  want  of  the  skill  to 
command  and  to  arrange  that  which  he  possessed.  A  deep 
and  increasing  sensibility  added  to  this  dislike  of  society.  The 
idea  of  having  committed  the  slightest  solecism  in  politeness, 
whether  real  or  imaginary,  was  agony  to  him  :  for  perhaps  even 
guilt  itself  does  not  impose  upon  some  minds  so  keen  a  sense 
of  shame  and  remorse,  as  a  modest,  sensitive,  and  inexperienced 
youth  feels  from  the  consciousness  of  having  neglected  etiquette, 
or  excited  ridicule.  Where  we  are  not  at  ease,  we  cannot  be 
happy ;  and  therefore  it  is  not  surprising,  that  Edward  Waverley 
supposed  that  he  disliked  and  was  unfitted  for  society,  merely 
because  he  had  not  yet  acquired  the  habit  of  living  in  it  with 
ease  and  comfort,  and  of  reciprocally  giving  and  receiving 
pleasure.  The  hours  he  spent  with  his  uncle  and  aunt  were 
exhausted  in  listening  to  the  oft-repeated  tale  of  narrative  old 
age.  Yet  even  there  his  imagination,  the  predominant  faculty 
of  his  mind,  was  frequently  excited.  Family  tradition  and 
genealogical  history,  upon  which  much  of  Sir  Everard's  dis- 
course turned,  is  the  very  reverse  of  amber,  which,  itself  a 
valuable  substance,  usually  includes  flies,  straws,  and  other 
trifles,  whereas  these  studies,  being  themselves  very  insignifi- 
cant and  trifling,  do  nevertheless  serve  to  perpetuate  a  great 
deal  of  what  is  rare  and  valuable  in  ancient  manners,  and  to 
record  many  curious  and  minute  facts  which  could  have  been 
preserved  and  conveyed  through  no  other  medium.  If,  there- 
fore, Edward  Waverley  yawned  at  times  over  the  dry  deduction 
of  his  line  of  ancestors,  with  their  various  intermarriages,  and 


WAVERLEY.  ,- 

inwardly  deprecated  the  remorseless  and  protracted  accuracy 

with  which  the  worthy  Sir  Everard  rehearsed  the  various  degrees 
of  propinquity  between  the  house  of  Waverley-Honour  and  the 
doughty  barons,  knights,  and  squires  to  whom  they  stood  allied  ; 
if  (notwithstanding  his  obligations  to  the  three  ermines  passant) 
he  sometimes  cursed  in  his  heart  the  jargon  of  heraldry,  its 
griffins,  its  moldwarps,  its  wiverns,  and  its  dragons,  with  all  the 
bitterness  of  Hotspur  himself,  there  were  moments  when  these 
communications  interested  his  fancy  and  rewarded  his  atten- 
tion. The  deeds  of  Wilibert  of  Waverley  in  the  Holy  Land,  his 
long  absence  and  perilous  adventures,  his  supposed  death,  and 
his  return  on  the  evening  when  the  betrothed  of  his  heart  had 
wedded  the  hero  who  had  protected  her  from  insult  and  oppres- 
sion during  his  absence  ;  tho  generosity  with  which  the  crusa- 
der relinquished  his  claims,  and  sought  in  a  neighboring  cloister 
that  peace  which  passeth  not  away  ;  ^  to  these  and  similar  tales 
he  would  hearken  till  his  heart  glowed  and  his  eye  glistened. 
Nor  was  he  less  affected,  when  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Rachel  narrated 
the  sufferings  and  fortitude  of  Lady  Alice  Waverley  during  the 
great  civil  war.  The  benevolent  features  of  the  venerable  spinster 
kindled  into  more  majestic  expression  as  she  told  how  Charles 
had,  after  the  field  of  Worcester,  found  a  day's  refuge  at  Waver- 
ley-Honour, and  how  when  a  troop  of  cavalry  were  approaching 
to  search  the  mansion.  Lady  Alice  dismissed  her  youngest  son 
with  a  handful  of  domestics,  charging  them  to  make  good  with 
their  lives  an  hour's  diversion,  that  the  king  might  have  that 
space  for  escape.  "  And,  God  help  hei,"  would  Mrs.  Rachel 
continue,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  the  heroine's  portrait  as  she 
spoke,  "  full  dearly  did  she  purchase  the  safety  of  her  prince 
with  the  life  of  her  darling  child.  They  brought  him  here  a 
prisoner,  mortally  wounded,  and  you  may  trace  the  drops  of  his 
blood  from  the  great  hall-door,  along  the  little  gallery,  and  up 
to  the  saloon,  where  they  laid  him  down  to  die  at  his  mother's 
feet.  But  there  was  comfort  exchanged  between  them  ;  for  he 
knew  from  the  glance  of  his  mother's  eye,  that  the  purpose  of 
his  desperate  defence  was  attained — Ah  !  I  remember,"  she 
continued,  "  I  remember  well  to  have  seen  one  that  knew  and 
loved  him.  Miss  Lucy  St.  Aubin  lived  and  died  a  maid  for  his 
sake,  though  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  wealthy  matches  in 
this  country ;  all  the  world  ran  after  her,  but  she  wore  widow's 
mourning  all  her  life  for  poor  William,  for  they  were  betrothed 

though  not  married,  and  died  in 1  cannot  think  of  the  date  j 

but  I  remember,  in  the  November  of  that  very  year,  when  she 
found  herself  sinking,  she  desired  to  be  brought  to  Waverley 


38  IVAVERLEV. 

Honour  once  more,  and  visited  all  the  places  where  she  had  been 
with  my  grand-uncle,  and  caused  the  carpets  to  be  raised  that 
she  miglit  trace  the  impression  of  his  blood,  and  if  tears  coul(^ 
have  washed  it  out,  it  had  not  been  there  now ;  for  there  was 
not  a  dr)'  eye  in  the  house.  You  would  have  thought,  Edward, 
that  the  very  trees  mourned  for  her,  for  their  leaves  dropped 
around  her  without  a  gust  of  wind  ;  and  indeed  she  looked  like 
one  that  would  never  see  them  green  again. 

Yxoxn  such  legends  our  hero  would  steal  away  to  indulge 
the  fancies  they  excited.  In  th«  corner  of  the  large  and  som- 
bre library,  with  no  other  light  than  was  afforded  by  the  decay- 
ing brands  on  its  ponderous  and  ample  hearth,  he  would  exer- 
cise for  hours  that  internal  sorcery,  by  which  past  or  imaginary 
events  are  presented  in  action,  as  it  were,  to  the  eye  of  the 
muser.  Then  arose  in  long  and  fair  array  the  splendor  of  the 
bridal  feast  at  Waverley-Castle  ;  the  tall  and  emaciated  form 
of  its  real  lord,  as  he  stood  in  his  pilgrim's  weeds,  an  unno- 
ticed spectator  of  the  festivities  of  his  supposed  heir  and  in- 
tended bride  ;  the  electrical  shock  occasioned  by  the  discover)'  j 
the  springing  of  the  vassals  to  arms ;  the  astonishment 
of  the  bridegroom  ;  the  terror  and  confusion  of  the  bride  ; 
the  agony  with  which  Wilibert  observed,  that  her  heart 
as  well  as  consent  was  in  these  nuptials ;  the  air  of  dig- 
nity, yet  of  deep  feeling,  with  which  he  flung  down  the  half- 
drawn  sword,  and  turned  away  forever  from  the  house  of  his 
ancestors.  Then  would  he  change  the  scene,  and  fancy  would 
at  his  wish  represent  Aunt  Rachel's  tragedy.  He  saw  the 
Lady  Waverley  seated  in  her  bower,  her  ear  strained  to  every 
sound,  her  heart  throbbing  with  double  agony  ;  now  listening 
to  the  decaying  echo  of  the  hoofs  of  the  king's  horse,  and 
when  that  had  died  away,  hearing  in  every  breeze  that  shook 
the  trees  of  the  park,  the  noise  of  the  remote  skirmish.  A 
distant  sound  is  heard  like  the  rushing  of  a  swollen  stream  ;  it 
comes  nearer,  and  Edward  can  plainly  distinguish  the  gallop- 
ing of  horses,  the  cries  and  shouts  of  men,  with  straggling  pis- 
tol-shots between,  rolling  forwards  to  the  hall.  The  lady  starts 
up — a  terrified  menial  rushes  in — But  why  pursue  such  a  de- 
scription. 

As  living  in  this  ideal  world  became  daily  more  delectable 
to  our  hero,  interruption  was  disagreeable  in  proportion.  The 
extensive  domain  that  surrounded  the  Hall,  which,  far  exceed- 
ing the  dimensions  of  a  park,  was  usually  termed  Waverley* 
Chase,  had  originally  been  forest  ground,  and  still,  though 
broken  by  extensive  glades  in  which  the  young  deer  were  sport* 


WAVMULEy. 


• 


39 


mg,  retained  its  pristine  and  savage  character.  It  was  tra- 
versed  by  broad  avenues,  in  many  places  half  grown  up  with 
brushwood,  where  the  beauties  of  former  days  used  to  take 
their  stand  to  see  the  stag  coursed  with  greyhounds,  or  to  gain 
an  aim  at  him  with  the  cross-bow.  In  one  spot  distinguished 
by  a  moss-grown  gothic  monument,  which  retained  the  name 
of  Queen's  Standing,  Elizabethherself  was  said  to  have  pierced 
seven  bucks  with  her  own  arrows.  This  was  a  very  favorite 
haunt  of  Edward  Waverley.  At  other  times,  with  his  gun  and 
his  spaniel,  which  served  as  an  apology  to  others,  and  with  a 
book  in  his  pocket,  which,  perhaps,  served  as  an  apology  to 
himself,  he  used  to  pursue  one  of  these  long  avenues,  which, 
after  an  ascending  sweep  of  four  miles,  gradually  narrowed 
into  a  rude  and  contracted  path  through  the  cliffy  and  woody 
pass  called  Mirkwood  Dingle,  and  opened  suddenly  upon  a 
deep,  dark,  and  small  lake,  named,  from  the  same  cause,  Mirk- 
wood Mere.  There  stood  in  former  times  a  solitary  tower 
upon  a  rock  almost  surrounded  by  the  water,  which  had  ac- 
quired the  name  of  the  Strength  of  Waverley,  because,  in  peril- 
ous times,  it  had  often  been  the  refuge  of  the  famil}'.  There, 
in  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster,  the  last  adherents  of  the 
Red  Rose  who  dared  to  maintain  lier  cause,  carried  on  a 
harassing  and  predatory  warfare,  till  the  stronghold  was  re- 
duced by  the  celebrated  Richard  of  Gloucester.  Here,  too,  a 
party  of  cavaliers  long  maintained  themselves  under  Nigel 
Waverley,  elder  brother  of  that  William  whose  fate  Aunt  Rachel 
commemorated.  Through  these  scenes  it  was  that  Edward  loved 
to  *'  chew  the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy,"  and,  like  a  child 
among  his  toys,  culled  and  arranged,  from  the  splendid  yet 
useless  imagery  and  emblems  with  which  his  imagination  was 
stored,  visions  as  brilliant  and  as  fading  as  those  of  an  evening 
sky.  The  effect  of  this  indulgence  upon  his  temper  and  char- 
acter will  appear  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   FIFTH. 

CHOICE  OF   A   PROFESSION. 


From  the  minuteness  with  which  I  have  traced  Waverley*s 
pursuits,  and  the  bias  which  these  unavoidably  communicated 
to  his  imagination,  the  reader  may  perhaps  anticipate,  in  the 


40  WAVER  LEY 

following  tale,  an  imitation  of  the  romance  of  Cen-antes.  But 
he  will  do  my  prudence  injustice  in  the  supposition.  My  in- 
tention is  not  to  follow  the  steps  of  that  inimitable  author,  in 
describing  such  total  perversion  of  intellect  as  misconstrues 
the  objects  actually  presented  to  the  senses,  but  that  more 
common  aberration  from  sound  judgment,  which  apprehends 
occurrences  indeed  in  their  reality,  but  communicates  to  them 
a  tincture  of  its  own  romantic  tone  and  coloring.  So  far  was 
Edward  Waverley  from  expecting  general  sympathy  with  his 
own  feelings,  or  concluding  that  the  present  state  of  things 
was  calculated  to  exhibit  the  reality  of  those  visions  in  which 
he  loved  to  indulge,  that  he  dreaded  nothing  more  than  the 
detection  of  such  sentiments  as  were  dictated  by  his  musings. 
He  neither  had  nor  wished  to  have  a  confidant,  with  whom  to 
communicate  his  reveries ;  and  so  sensible  was  he  of  the  ridi- 
cule attached  to  them,  that,  had  he  been  to  choose  between 
any  punishment  short  of  ignominy,  and  the  necessity  of  giving 
a  cold  and  composed  account  of  the  ideal  world  in  which  he 
lived  the  better  part  of  his  days,  I  think  he  would  not  have 
hesitated  to  prefer  the  former  infliction.  This  secrecy  became 
doubly  precious,  as  he  felt  in  advancing  life  the  influence  of 
the  a.vakening  passions.  Female  forms  of  exquisite  grace  and 
beauty  began  to  mingle  in  his  mental  adventures  ;  nor  was  he 
long  without  looking  abroad  to  compare  the  creatures  of  his 
own  imagination  with  the  females  of  actual  life.  The  list  of 
the  beauties  who  displa3'ed  their  hebdomadal  finery  at  th» 
parish  church  of  Waverley  was  neither  numerous  nor  select. 
Ey  far  the  most  passable  was  Miss  Sissly,  or  as  she  rathei 
chose  to  be  called,  Miss  Cecilia  Stubbs,  daughter  of  Squire 
Stubbs  at  the  Grange.  I  know  not  whether  it  was  by  the 
"  merest  accident  in  the  world,"  a  phrase  which,  from  female 
lips,  does  not  always  exclude  malice  prepense,  or  whether  it  was 
from  a  conformity  of  taste,  that  Miss  Cecilia  more  than  once 
crossed  Edward  in  his  favorite  walks  through  Waverley-Chase. 
He  had  not  as  yet  assumed  courage  to  accost  her  on  these  oc- 
casions j  but  the  meeting  was  not  without  its  effect.  A  roman- 
tic lover  is  a  strange  idolater,  who  sometimes  cares  not  out  of 
what  log  he  frames  the  object  of  his  adoration  j  at  least,  if 
nature  has  given  that  object  any  passable  proportion  of  per- 
sonal charms,  he  can  easily  play  the  Jeweller  and  Dervise  in 
the  oriental  tale,*  and  supply  her  richly,  out  of  the  stores  of 
his  own  imagination,  with  supernatural  beauty,  and  all  the 
properties  of  intellectual  wealth.     But  ere  the  charms  of  Mis* 

*  See  Hoppuer's  Tale  of  the  Seven  Lovesat 


WAVERLEY.  4« 

Cecilia  Stubbs  had  erected  her  into  a  positive  goddess,  or  ele« 
vated  her  at  least  to  a  level  with  the  saint  her  namesake,  Mrs, 
Rachel  Waverley  gained  some  intimation  which  determined 
her  to  prevent  the  approaching  apotheosis.  Even  the  most 
simple  and  unsuspicious  of  the  female  sex  have  (God  bless 
them  !)  an  instinctive  sharpness  of  perception  in  such  matters, 
which  sometimes  goes  the  length  of  observing  partialities  that 
never  existed,  but  rarely  misses  to  detect  such  as  pass  actually 
under  their  observation.  Mrs.  Rachel  applied  herself,  with 
great  prudence,  not  to  combat,  but  to  elude,  the  approaching 
danger,  and  suggested  to  her  brother  the  necessity  that  the 
heir  of  his  house  should  see  something  more  of  the  world  than 
was  consistent  with  constant  residence  at  Waverley-Honour. 
Sir  Everard  would  not  at  first  listen  to  a  proposal  which  went 
to  separate  his  nephew  from  him.  Edward  was  a  little  bookish, 
he  admitted ;  but  youth,  he  had  always  heard,  was  the  season 
for  learning,  and,  no  doubt,  when  his  rage  for  letters  was 
abated,  and  his  head  fully  stocked  with  knowledge,  his  nephew 
would  take  to  field-sports  and  country  business.  He  had  of- 
ten, he  said,  himself  regretted  that  he  had  not  spent  some  time 
in  study  during  his  youth  :  he  would  neither  have  shot  nor 
hunted  with  less  skill,  and  he  might  have  made  the  roof  of  St. 
Stephen's  echo  to  longer  orations  than  were  comprised  in  those 
zealous  Noes,  with  which,  when  a  member  of  the  house  during 
Godolphin's  administration,  he  encountered  every  measure  of 
government. 

Aunt  Rachel's  anxiety,  however,  lent  her  address  to  cany 
her  point.  Every  representative  of  their  house  had  visited  for- 
eign parts,  or  served  his  country  in  the  army,  before  he  settled 
for  life  at  Waverley-Honour  and  she  appealed  for  the  truth  of 
her  assertion  to  the  genealogical  pedigree,  an  authority  which 
Sir  Everard  was  never  known  to  contradict.  In  short,  a  pro- 
posal was  made  to  Mr.  Richard  Waverley,  that  his  son  should 
travel,  under  the  direction  of  his  present  tutor,  Mr.  Pembroke, 
with  a  suitable  allowance  from  the  baronet's  liberality.  The 
father  himself  saw  no  objection  to  this  overture  ;  but  upon 
mentioning  it  casually  at  the  table  of  the  minister  the  great 
man  looked  grave.  The  reason  was  explained  in  private.  The 
unhappy  turn  of  Sir  Everard's  politics,  the  minister  observed, 
was  such  as  would  render  it  highly  improper  that  a  young 
gentleman  of  such  hopeful  prospects  should  travel  on  the  con- 
tinent with  a  tutor  doubtless  of  his  uncle's  choosing,  and  direct- 
ing his  course  by  his  instructions.  What  might  Mr.  Edward 
Waverley's  society  be  at  Paris,  what  at  Rome,  where  all  mao* 


^t  WAVE  RLE  Y. 

ler  of  snares  were  spread  by  the  pretender  and  his  sons; 
(hese  were  points  for  Mr.  Waverley  to  consider.  This  he 
could  himself  say,  that  he  knew  his  majesty  had  such  a  just 
sense  of  Mr.  Richard  Waverley's  merits  that  if  his  son  adopted 
the  army  for  a  few  years,  a  troop,  he  believed,  might  be 
reckoned  upon  in  one  of  the  dragoon  regiments  lately  returned 
from  Flanders.  A  hint  thus  conveyed  and  enforced,  was  not 
to  be  neglected  with  impunity  ;  and  Richard  Waverley,  though 
with  great  dread  of  shocking  his  brother's  prejudices,  deemed 
he  could  not  avoid  accepting  the  commission  thus  offered  him 
for  his  son.  The  truth  is,  he  calculated  much,  and  justly,  upon 
Sir  Everard's  fondness  for  Edward,  which  made  him  unlikely 
to  resent  any  step  that  he  might  take  in  due  submission  to 
parental  authority.  Two  letters  announced  this  determination 
to  the  baronet  and  his  nephew.  The  latter  barely  communi- 
cated the  fact,  and  pointed  out  the  necessary  preparations  for 
joining  his  regiment.  To  his  brother,  Richard  was  more  dif- 
fuse and  circuitous.  He  coincided  with  him  in  the  most  flat- 
tering manner  in  the  propriety  of  his  son's  seeing  a  little  more 
of  the  world,  and  was  even  humble  in  expressions  of  gratitude 
for  his  proposed  assistance  ;  was,  however,  deeply  concerned 
that  it  was  now,  unfortunately,  not  in  Edward's  power  exactly 
to  comply  with  the  plan  which  had  been  chalked  out  by  his  best 
friend  and  benefactor.  He  himself  had  thought  with  pain  on 
the  boy's  inactivity,  at  an  age  when  all  his  ancestors  had  borne 
arms  ;  even  Royalty  itself  had  deigned  to  inquire  whether 
young  Waverley  was  not  now  in  Flanders,  at  an  age  when  his 
grandfather  was  already  bleeding  for  his  king  in  the  great 
Civil  War,  This  was  accompanied  by  an  offer  of  a  troop 
of  horse.  What  could  he  do  I  There  was  no  time  to  con- 
sult his  brother's  inclinations,  even  if  he  could  have  conceived 
there  might  be  objections  on  his  part  to  his  nephew's  follow- 
ing the  glorious  career  of  his  predecessors.  And,  in  short, 
that  Edward  was  now  (the  intermediate  steps  of  cornet  and 
lieutenant  being  overleapt  with  great  agility)  Captain  Waver- 
ley, of  Gardiner's  regiment  of  Dragoons,  which  he  must  join  in 
their  quarters  at  Dundee  in  Scotland,  in  the  course  of  a 
month. 

Sir  Everard  Waverley  received  this  intimation  with  a  mix- 
ture of  feelings.  At  the  period  of  the  Hanoverian  succession 
be  had  withdrawn  from  parliament,  and  his  conduct,  in  the 
memorable  year  1715,  had  not  been  altogether  unsuspected. 
There  were  reports  of  private  musters  of  tenants  and  horses 
in  Waverley  Chase  by  moonlight,  and  of  cases  of  carbines  and 


WAVERLBV  43 

pistols  purchased  in  Holland,  and  addressed  to  the  baronet^ 
but  intercepted  by  th^  vigilance  of  a  riding  officer  of  the  ex- 
cise, who  was  afterwards  tossed  in  a  blanket  on  a  moonless 
night,  by  an  association  of  stout  yeomen,  for  his  officiousness. 
Nay,  it  was  even  said,  that  at  the  arrest  of  Sir  William  Wynd- 
ham,  the  leader  of  the  tory  party,  a  letter  from  Sir  Everard 
was  found  in  the  pocket  of  his  night-gown.  But  there  was  no 
overt  act  which  an  attainder  could  be  founded  on,  and  govern- 
ment, contented  with  suppressing  the  insurrection  of  17 15,  felt 
it  neither  prudent  nor  safe  to  push  their  vengeance  farther  than 
against  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  actually  took  up 
arms.  Nor  did  Sir  Everard's  apprehensions  of  personal  con- 
sequences seem  to  correspond  with  the  reports  spread  among 
his  whig  neighbors.  It  was  well  known  that  he  had  supplied 
with  money  several  of  the  distressed  Northumbrians  and 
Scotchmen,  who,  after  being  made  prisoners  at  Preston  in 
Lancashire,  were  imprisoned  in  Newgate  and  the  Marshalsea, 
and  it  was  his  solicitor  and  ordinary  counsel  who  conducted 
the  defence  of  some  of  these  unfortunate  gentleman  at  their 
trial.  It  was  generally  supposed,  however,  that,  had  ministers 
possessed  any  real  proof  of  Sir  Everard's  accession  to  the  re- 
bellion, he  either  would  not  have  ventured  thus  to  brave  the 
existing  government,  or  at  least  would  not  have  done  so  with 
impunity.  The  feelings  which  then  dictated  his  proceedings, 
were  those  of  a  young  man,  and  at  an  agitating  period.  Since 
that  time  Sir  Everard's  jacobitism  had  been  gradually  decay- 
ing like  a  fire  which  burns  out  for  want  of  fuel.  His  tory  and 
high-church  principles  were  kept  up  by  some  occasional  exer- 
cise at  elections  and  quarter-sessions  j  but  those  respecting 
hereditary  right  were  fallen  into  a  sort  of  abeyance.  Yet  it 
jarred  severely  upon  his  feelings,  that  his  nephew  should  go 
into  the  army  under  the  Brunswick  dynasty  ;  and  the  more  so, 
as  independent  of  his  high  and  conscientious  ideas  of  paternal 
authority,  it  was  impossible,  or  at  least  highly  imprudent,  to 
interfere  authoritively  to  prevent  it.  This  suppressed  vex- 
ation gave  rise  to  many  poohs  and  pshaws,  which  were  placed 
to  the  account  of  an  incipient  fit  of  gout,  until,  having  sent  fot 
the  Army  List,  the  worthy  baronet  consoled  himself  with  reck- 
oning the  descendants  of  the  houses  of  genuine  loyalty,  Mor- 
daunts,  Granvilles,  and  Stanleys,  whose  names  were  to  be 
found  in  that  military  record  ;  and  calling  up  all  his  feelings 
of  family  grandeur  and  warlike  glory,  he  concluded,  with  logic 
something  like  Falstaff's,  that  when  war  was  at  hand,  although 
it  were  shame  to  be  on  any  side  but  one,  it  were  worse  shams 


♦4 


WA  VERLE  r. 


to  be  idle  than  to  be  on  the  worst  side,  though  blacker  than 
usurpation  could  make  it.  As  for  Aunt  Rachel,  her  scheme 
had  not  exactly  tenninated  according  to  her  wishes,  but  she 
was  under  the  necessity  of  submitting  to  circumstances  ;  and 
her  mortilicaiion  was  diverted  by  the  employment  she  found 
in  fitting  out  her  nephew  for  the  campaign,  and  greatly  consoled 
by  the  prospect  of  beholding  him  blaze  in  complete  uniform. 

Edward  Waverley  himself  received  with  animated  and  un 
defined  surprise  this  most  unexpected  intelligence.  It  was,  as 
a  fine  old  poem  expresses  it,  "  like  a  fire  to  heather  set,"  that 
covers  a  solitary  hill  with  smoke,  and  illumines  it  at  the  same 
time  with  dusky  fire.  His  tutor,  or,  I  should  say,  Mr.  Pem- 
broke, for  he  scarce  assumed  the  name  of  tutor,  picked  up 
about  Edward's  room  some  fragments  of  irregular  verse,  which 
he  appeared  to  have  composed  under  the  influence  of  the  agi- 
tating feelings  occasioned  by  this  sudden  page  being  turned  up 
to  him  in  the  book  of  life.  The  doctor,  who  was  a  believer  in 
all  poetr}'  which  was  composed  by  his  friends,  and  written  out 
in  fair  straight  lines,  with  a  capital  at  the  beginning  of  each, 
communicated  this  treasure  to  Aunt  Rachel,  who,  with  her 
spectacles  dimmed  with  tears,  transferred  them  to  her  com- 
mon-place book,  among  choice  receipts  for  cookery  and  med- 
icine, favorite  texts,  and  portions  from  high-church  divines, 
and  a  few  songs,  amatory  and  jacobitical,  which  she  had  car- 
olled in  her  younger  days,  from  whence  her  nephew's  poetical 
tentamina  were  extracted  when  the  volume  itself,  with  other 
authentic  records  of  the  Waverley  family,  were  exposed  to  the 
inspection  of  the  unworthy  editor  of  this  memorable  history. 
If  they  afford  the  reader  no  higher  amusement,  they  will  serve, 
Bt  least,  better  than  narrative  of  any  kind,  to  acquaint  hni 
irith  the  wild  and  irregular  spirit  of  our  hero : — 

Late,  when  the  Autumn  evening  fell 
On  Mirkwood  Mere's  romantic  dell, 
The  lake  retum'd,  m  cliasten'd  gleam, 
The  purple  cloud,  the  golden  b^m : 
Reflected  in  the  crystal  pool, 
Headland  and  bank  lay  fair  and  cool: 
The  weather-tinted  rock  and  tower, 
Eaci  drooping  tree,  each  fairy  flower 
So  true,  so  soft,  the  mirror  gave. 
As  if  there  lay  beneath  the  wave, 
Secure  from  trouble,  toil,  and  care, 
A  world  than  earthlv  world  more  fair. 

But  distant  winds  began  to  wake, 
And  roused  the  Genius  of  the  L»J^I 
He  heard  the  groaning  of  the  oalu 
And  doon'd  at  once  his  aaUe  dou. 


WAVER  LEY.  M 

At  warrior  at  the  battl^^ry 

iivests  him  with  his  panoply ; 

Then  as  the  whirlwind  nearer  press'd, 

He  'gan  to  shake  his  foamy  crest 

O'er  furrow'd  brow  and  blacken'd  ched^ 

And  bade  his  surge  in  thunder  spealb 

In  wild  and  broken  eddies  whirl  d, 

Flitted  that  tond  ideal  world. 

And  to  the  shore  in  tumult  tosL 

Tht  realms  of  fairy  bliss  were  lost. 

Yet,  with  a  stem  delight  and  stnnge 
I  saw  the  spirit-stirring  change. 
As  warr'd  the  wind  with  wave  and  «ood| 
Upon  the  niin'd  tower  1  stood 
And  felt  my  heart  more  strongly  bonnd 
Responsive  to  the  lofty  sonnd. 
WhUe,  joying  in  the  mighty  roar, 
I  moum'd  that  tranquil  scene  no  moie> 

So,  on  the  idle  dreams  of  youth, 
Breaks  the  loud  trumpet-call  of  Trotb 
Bids  each  fair  vision  pass  away, 
Like  landscape  on  the  lake  that  lay, 
As  fair,  as  flitting,  and  as  frail, 
As  that  which  fled  the  Autumn  gale- 
Forever  dead  to  fancy's  eye 
Be  each  gay  form  that  glided  by, 
While  dreams  of  love  and  lady's  charm 
Give  place  to  honor  and  to  arms  I 

la  sober  prose,  as  perhaps  these  verses  intimate  less  decid- 
edty,  the  transient  idea  of  Miss  Cecilia  Stubbs  passed  from 
Captain  Waverley's  heart  amid  the  turmoil  which  his  new 
destinies  excited.  She  appeared  indeed  in  full  splendor  in  her 
father's  pew  upon  the  Sunday  when  he  attended  service  for  the 
last  time  at  the  old  parish  church,  upon  which  occasion,  at  the 
request  of  his  uncle  and  Aunt  Rachel,  he  was  induced  (nothing 
loth,  if  the  truth  must  be  told)  to  present  himself  in  full 
uniform. 

There  is  no  better  antidote  against  entertaining  too  high 
an  opinion  of  others,  than  having  an  excellent  one  of  ourselves 
at  the  very  same  time.  Miss  Stubbs  had  indeed  summoned  up 
every  assistance  which  art  could  afford  to  beauty  ;  but,  alas  I 
hoop,  patches,  frizzled  locks,  and  a  new  mantua  of  genuine 
French  silk,  were  lost  upon  a  young  officer  of  dragoons,  who 
wore,  for  the  first  time,  his  gold-laced  hat,  jack-boots,  and 
broadsword.  I  know  not  whether,  like  the  champion  of  an  old 
ballad. 

His  heart  was  all  on  honor  bent 

He  could  not  stoop  to  love ; 
No  lady  in  the  land  had  power 

His  frozen  heart  to  move ; 

m  w.—*'^-*  ^bc  deep  9!?4  flai^i'i  ■  '  fn«ttf«!«^ci<ed  goMj^ 


46 


VP-AVERLEY. 


which  now  fenced  his  breast,  defied  the  artillery  of  CecHiall 
eyes,  but  c\ery  arrow  was  launched  at  him  in  vain. 

Yet  did  I  mark  where  Cupid's  shaft  did  Kght : 
It  lighted  not  on  little  western  flower, 
But  on  bold  yeoman,  flower  of  all  the  west, 
Hight  Jonas  Culbertfield,  the  steward's  son. 

Craving  pardon  for  my  heroics  (which  I  am  unable  in 

certain  cases  to  resist  giving  way  to),  it  is  a  melancholy  fact, 
tliat  my  history  must  here  take  leave  of  the  fair  Cecilia,  who, 
like  many  a  daughter  of  Eve,  after  the  departure  of  Edward, 
and  the  dissipation  of  certain  idle  visions  which  she  had 
adopted,  quietly  contented  herself  with  ?Lpis-aller,  and  gave  hei 
hand,  at  the  distance  6f  six  months,  to  the  aforesaid  Jonas,  son 
of  the  baronet's  steward,  an  heir  (no  unfertile  prospect)  to  a 
steward's  fortune  ;  besides  the  snug  probability  of  succeeding 
to  his  father's  office.  All  these  advantages  moved  Squire 
Stubbs,  as  much  as  the  ruddy  brow  and  manly  form  of  the 
suitor  influenced  his  daughter,  to  abate  somewhat  in  the  article 
of  their  gentry',  and  so  the  match  was  concluded.  None  seemed 
more  gratified  than  Aunt  Rachel,  who  had  hitherto  looked 
rather  askaunce  upon  the  presumptuous  damsel  (as  much  as 
I)cradventure  as  her  nature  would  permit),  but  who,  on  the  first 
appearance  of  the  new-married  pair  at  church,  honored  the 
bride  with  a  smile  and  a  profound  curtsey,  in  presence  of  the 
rector,  the  curate,  the  clerk,  and  the  whole  congregation  of  the 
united  parishes  of  Waverley  £2i?n  Beverly. 

I  beg  pardon,  once  and  for  all,  of  those  readers  who  take 
up  novels  merely  for  amusement,  for  plaguing  them  so  long 
with  old  fashioned  politics,  and  Whig  and  Tory,  and  Hanove- 
rians and  Jacobites.  The  truth  is,  I  cannot  promise  them  that 
this  story  shall  be  intelligible,  not  to  say  probable,  without  it. 
My  plan  requires  that  I  should  explain  the  motives  on  which 
its  action  proceeded,  and  these  motives  necessarily  arose  from 
the  feelings,  prejudices,  and  parties,  of  the  times.  I  do  not 
invite  my  fair  readers,  whose  sex  and  impatience  give  them  the 
greatest  right  to  complain  of  these  circumstances,  into  a  flying 
chariot  drawn  by  hyppogriffs,  or  moved  by  enchantment.  Mine 
is  a  humble  English  post-chaise,  drawn  upon  four  wheels,  and 
keeping  his  majesty's  highway.  Such  as  dislike  the  vehicle 
may  leave  it  at  the  next  halt,  and  wait  for  the  conveyance  of 
Prince  Hussein's  tapestry,  or  Malek  the  Weaver's  flying  sentrjT' 
box.  Those  who  are  contented  to  remain  with  me  will  be 
occasionally  exposed  to  the  dulness  inseparable  from  heavy 


WAVERLEY. 


47 


roads,  steep  hills,  sloughs,  and  other  terrestial  retardations  ; 
but,  with  tolerable  horses,  and  a  civil  driver  (as  the  advertise- 
ments have  it),  I  engage  to  get  as  soon  as  possible  into  a  more 
picturesque  and  romantic  country,  if  my  passengers  incline  to 
have  some  patience  with  me  during  my  first  stages.^ 


CHAPTER   SIXTH. 

THE  ADIEUS  OF   WAVERLEY. 


It  was  upon  the  evening  of  this  memorable  Sunday  that  Sif 
Everard  entered  the  library,  where  he  nairowly  missed  sur- 
prising our  young  hero  as  he  went  through  the  guards  of  the 
broad-sword  with  the  ancient  weapon  of  old  Sir  Hildebrand, 
which,  being  preserved  as  an  heir-loom,  usually  hung  over  the 
chimney  in  the  library,  beneath  a  picture  of  the  knight  and  his 
horse,  where  the  features  were  almost  entirely  hidden  by  the 
knight's  profusion  of  curled  hair,  and  the  Bucephalus,  which  he 
bestrode  concealed  by  the  voluminous  robes  of  the  Bath  with 
which  he  was  decorated.  Sir  Everard  entered,  and  after  a 
glance  at  the  picture  and  another  at  his  nephew,  began  a  little 
speech,  which,  however,  soon  dropt  into  the  natural  simplicity 
of  his  common  manner,  agitated  upon  the  present  occasion  by 
no  common  feeling.  "  Nephew,"  he  said ;  and  then,  as  mending 
his  phrase,  "  My  dear  Edward,  it  is  God's  will,  and  also  the 
will  of  your  father,  whom,  under  God,  it  is  your  duty  to  obey, 
that  you  should  leave  us  to  take  up  the  profession  of  arms,  in 
which  so  many  of  your  ancestors  have  been  distinguished.  I 
have  made  such  arrangements  as  will  unable  you  to  take  the 
field  as  their  descendant,  and  as  the  probable  heir  of  the  house 
of  Waverley  ;  and,  sir,  in  the  field  of  battle  you  will  remember 
what  name  you  bear.  And,  Edward,  my  dear  boy,  remember 
also  that  you  are  the  last  of  that  race,  and  the  only  hope  of  its 
revival  depends  upon  you  ;  therefore,  as  far  as  duty  and  honor 
will  permit,  avoid  danger — I  mean  unnecessary  clanger — and 
keep  no  company  with  rakes,  gamblers  and  whigs,  of  whom,  it 
is  to  be  feared,  there  are  but  too  many  in  the  service  into  which 
you  are  going.  Your  colonel,  as  I  am  informed,  is  an  excellent 
man — for  a  presbyterian  ;  bnt  you  will  remember  your  duty  to 
God,  the  Church  of  England,  and  tho (this  breach  ought 


^8  WAVER  LEV 

to  have  been  supplied,  according  to  the  rubric,  with  the  word 
king;  but  as,  unfortunately,  that  word  conveyed  a  double  and 
embarrassing  sense,  one  meaning  de  facto,  and  the  other  dt 
iun\  the  knight  filled  up  the  blank  otherwise) — the  church  of 
England,  and  all  constituted  authorities."  Then,  not  trusting 
himself  with  any  other  oratory,  he  carried  his  nephew  to  his 
stables  to  see  the  horses  destined  for  his  campaign.  Two  were 
black  (the  regiment  color),  superb  chargers  both ;  the  other 
three  were  stout  active  hacks,  designed  for  the  road,  or  for  his 
domestics,  of  whom  two  were  to  attend  him  from  the  Hall ;  an 
additional  groom,  if  necessar}',  might  be  picked  up  in  Scotland. 

"  You  will  depart  with  but  a  small  retinue,"  quoth  the 
baronet,  "  compared  to  Sir  Hildebrand,  when  he  mustered 
before  the  gate  of  the  Hall  a  larger  body  of  horse  than  youi 
whole  regiment  consists  of.  I  could  have  wishes  that  these 
twenty  young  fellows  from  my  estate,  who  have  enlisted  in 
your  troop,  had  been  to  march  with  you  on  your  journey  to 
Scotland.  It  would  have  been  something  at  least ;  but  I  am 
told  their  attendance  would  be  thought  unusual  in  these  days, 
when  every  new  and  foolish  fashion  is  introduced  to  break  the 
natural  dependence  of  the  people  upon  their  landlords."  Sir 
Everard  had  done  his  best  to  correct  this  unnatural  disposition 
of  the  times ;  for  he  had  brightened  the  chain  of  attachment 
between  the  recruits  and  their  young  captain,  not  only  by  a 
copious  repast  of  beef  and  ale,  by  way  of  parting  feast,  but  by 
such  a  pecuniary  donation  to  each  individual,  as  tended  rather 
to  improve  the  conviviality  than  the  discipline  of  their  march. 
After  inspecting  the  cavalry.  Sir  Everard  again  conducted  his 
nephew  to  the  library,  where  he  produced  a  letter,  carefully 
folded,  surrounded  by  a  little  stripe  of  flox-silk,  according  to 
ancient  form,  and  sealed  with  an  accurate  impression  of  the 
Waverley  coat-of-arms.  It  was  addressed,  with  great  formality, 
"  To  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine,  Esq.  of  Bradwardine,  at  his 
principal  mansion  of  Tully-Veolan,  in  Perthshire,  North  Britain. 
These — By  the  hands  of  Captain  Edward  Waverley,  nephew  of 
Sir  Everard  Waverley,  of  Waverley-Honour,  Bart." 

The  gentleman  to  whom  this  enormous  greeting  was  ad* 
dressed,  of  whom  we  shall  have  more  to  say  in  the  sequel,  had 
been  in  arms  for  the  exiled  family  of  Stuart  in  the  year  17 15, 
and  was  made  prisoner  at  Preston,  in  Lancashire.  He  was  of 
a  very  ancient  family,  and  somewhat  embarrassed  fortune ;  a 
scholar,  according  to  the  scholarship  of  Scotchmen,  that  is,  his 
\earning  was  more  diffuse  than  accurate,  and  he  was  rather  a 
leader  than  a  grammarian.    Of  his  zeal  for  the  classic  authors 


WAVER  LEY. 


49 


he  is  said  to  have  given  an  uncommon  instance.  On  the  road 
between  Preston  and  London  he  made  his  escape  from  his 
guards  ;  but  being  afterwards  found  loitering  near  the  place 
where  they  had  lodged  the  former  night,  he  was  recognized 
and  again  arrested.  His  companions,  and  even  his  escort, 
ivere  surprised  at  his  infatuation,  and  could  not  help  inquiring, 
why,  being  once  at  liberty,  he  had  not  made  the  best  of  his 
way  to  a  place  of  safety ;  to  which  he  replied,  that  he  had  in- 
tended to  do  so,  but,  in  good  faith,  he  had  returned  to  seek  his 
Titus  Livius,  which  he  had  forgot  in  the  hurry  of  his  escape.  ® 
The  simplicity  of  this  anecdote  struck  the  gentleman,  who,  as 
we  before  observed,  had  managed  the  defence  of  some  of  those 
unfortunate  persons,  at  the  expense  of  Sir  Everard,  and  per- 
haps some  others  of  the  party.  He  was,  besides,  himself  a 
special  admirer  of  the  old  Patavinian,  and  though  probably 
his  own  zeal  might  not  have  carried  him  such  extravagant 
lengths,  even  to  recover  the  edition  of  Sweynheim  and  Pan- 
nartz,  (supposed  to  be  the  princeps),  he  did  not  the  less 
estimate  the  devotion  of  the  North  Briton,  and  in  consequence 
exerted  himself  to  so  much  purpose  to  remove  and  soften  evi- 
dence, detect  legal  flaws,  et  cetera,  that  he  accomplished  the  final 
discharge  and  deliverance  of  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine 
from  certain  very  awkward  consequences  of  a  plea  before  our 
sovereign  lord  the  king  in  Westminster. 

The  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  for  he  was  generally  so  called  in 
Scotland  (although  his  intimates,  from  his  place  :^f  residence, 
used  to  denominate  him  Tally- Veolan,  or,  more  familiarly,  Tully), 
no  sooner  stood  rectus  in  curia,  than  he  posted  down  to  pay  his 
respects  and  make  his  acknowledgments  at  Waverley-Honour. 
A  congenial  passion  for  field-sports,  and  a  general  coincidence 
in  political  opinions,  cemented  his  friendship  with  Sir  Everard, 
notwithstanding  ihe  difference  of  their  habits  and  studies  in 
other  particulars  ;  and,  having  spent  several  weeks  at  Waver- 
ley-Honour, the  Baron  departed  with  many  expressions  of  regard, 
warmly  pressing  the  baronet  to  return  his  visit,  and  partake  of 
the  diversion  of  grouse  shooting  upon  his  moors  in  Perthshire 
next  season.  Shortly  after,  Mr.  Bradwardine  remitted  from 
Scotland  a  sum  in  reimbursement  of  expenses  incurred  in  the 
King's  High  Court  of  Westminster,  which,  although  not  quite 
so  formidable  when  reduced  to  the  English  denomination,  had, 
in  its  original  form  of  Scotch  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence, 
such  a  formidable  effect  upon  the  frame  of  Duncan  Mac- 
wheeble,  the  laird's  confidential  factor,  baron-baillie,  and  man 
of  resource,  that  he  had  a  fit  of  the  colic  which  lasted  for  five 


5° 


IVA  VENULE  y. 


days,  occasioned,  he  said,  solely  and  utterly  by  becoming  the 
unhappy  instrument  of  conveying  such  a  serious  sum  of  money 
out  of  his  native  country  into  the  hands  of  the  false  English, 
13ut  patriotism,  as  it  is  the  fairest,  so  is  it  often  the  most  suspi- 
cious mask  of  other  feelings  ;  and  many  who  knew  Baillie  Mac- 
wheeble,  concluded  that  his  professions  of  regret  were  not 
altogether  disinterested,  and  that  he  would  have  grudged  the 
moneys  paid  to  the  /oons  at  Westminster  much  less  had  the) 
not  come  from  Bradwardine  estate,  a  fund  which  he  consid- 
ered as  more  particularly  his  own.  But  the  Baillie  protested 
he  was  absolutely  disinterested — 

"  Woe,  woe,  for  Scotland,  not  a  wliit  for  me  1 " 

The  laird  was  only  rejoiced  that  his  worthy  friend.  Sir  Everard 
Waverley  of  Waverley-Honour,  was  reimbursed  of  the  expendi- 
ture which  he  had  outlaid  on  account  of  the  house  of  Bradwar- 
dine. It  concerned,  he  said,  the  credit  of  his  own  family  and 
of  the  kingdom  of  Scotland  at  large,  that  these  disbursements 
should  be  repaid  forthwith,  and,  if  delayed,  it  would  be  a  mat- 
ter of  national  reproach.  Sir  Everard,  accustomed  to  treat 
much  larger  sums  with  indifference,  received  the  remittance  of 
£2^^'.  13:  6,  without  being  aware  that  the  payment  was  an 
international  concern,  and,  indeed,  would  probably  have  for- 
got the  circumstance  altogether,  if  Baillie  Macwheeble  had 
thought  of  comforting  his  colic  by  intercepting  the  subsidy. 
A  yearly  intercourse  took  place,  of  a  short  letter,  and  a  hamper 
or  a  cask  or  two,  between  Waverley-Honour  and  Tully-Veolan, 
the  English  exports  consisting  of  mighty  cheeses  and  mightier 
ale,  pheasants,  and  venison,  and  the  Scottish  returns  being 
vested  in  grouse,  white  hares,  pickled  salmon,  and  usquebaugh. 
All  which  were  meant,  sent,  and  received,  as  pledges  of  con- 
stant friendship  and  amity  between  two  important  houses.  It 
followed  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  heir-apparent  of  Wa- 
verley-Honour could  not  with  propriety  visit  Scotland  without 
being  furnished  with  credentials  to  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine. 
When  this  matter  was  explained  and  settled,  Mr.  Pembroke 
expressed  his  wish  to  take  a  private  and  particular  leavt  of  his 
dear  pupil.  The  good  man's  exhortations  to  Edward  to  pre- 
serve an  unblemished  life  and  morals,  to  hold  fast  the  principles 
of  the  Christian  religion,  and  to  eschew  the  profane  company 
of  scoffers  and  latitudinarians,  too  much  abounding  in  the  army, 
were  not  unmirfgled  with  his  political  prejudices.  It  had 
pleased  Heaven,  he  said,  to  place  Scotland  (doubtless  for  the 
sins  of  their  ancestors  in  1642)  iix  a  more  deplorable  state  a* 


WAVER  LEY.  ^i 

darkness  than  even  this  unhappy  khigdom  of  England.  Here, 
at  least,  although  the  candlestick  of  the  church  of  England  had 
been  in  some  degree  removed  from  its  place,  it  yet  afforded  a 
glimmering  light ;  there  was  a  hierarchy,  though  schismatical, 
and  fallen  from  the  principles  maintained  by  those  great  fathers 
of  the  church,  Bancroft  and  his  brethern ;  there  was  a  liturgy, 
though  wofully  perverted  in  some  of  the  principal  petitions. 
But  in  Scotland  it  was  utter  darkness,  and  excepting  a  sorrow- 
ful, scattered,  and  persecuted  remnant,  the  pulpits  were  aban- 
doned to  presbyterians,  and,  he  feared,  to  sectaries  of  every 
description.  It  should  be  his  duty  to  fortify  his  dear  pupil  to 
resist  such  unhallowed  and  pernicious  doctrines  in  church  and 
state,  as  must  necessarily  be  forced  at  times  upon  his  unwilling 
ears. — Here  he  produced  two  immense  folded  packets,  which 
appeared  each  to  contain  a  whole  ream  of  closely  written  man- 
uscript. They  had  been  the  labor  of  the  worthy  man's  whole 
life  ;  and  never  were  labor  and  zeal  more  absurdly  wasted. 
He  had  at  one  time  gone  to  London,  with  the  intention  of  giv- 
ing them  to  the  world,  by  the  medium  of  a  bookseller  in  Little 
Britain,  well  known  to  deal  in  such  commodities,  and  to  whom 
he  was  instructed  to  address  himself  in  a  particular  phrase,  and 
with  a  certain  sign,  which,  it  seems,  passed  at  that  time  current 
among  the  initiated  Jacobites.  The  moment  Mr.  Pembroke 
had  uttered  the  Shibboleth,  with  the  appropriate  gesture,  the 
bibliopolist  greeted  him,  notwithstanding  every  disclamation^ 
by  the  title  of  Doctor,  and  conveying  him  into  his  back  shop, 
after  inspecting  every  possible  and  impossible  place  of  conceal- 
ment, he  commenced:  "  Eh,  doctor  !  —  Well  —  all  under  the 
rose — snug — I  keep  no  holes  here  even  for  a  Hanoverian  rat 
to  hide  in.  And,  what — eh  !  any  good  news  from  our  friends 
over  the  water  ? — and  how  does  the  worthy  King  of  France  ? — • 
Or  perhaps  you  are  more  lately  from  Rome  ?  it  must  be  Rome 
will  do  it  at  last — the  church  must  light  its  candle  at  the  old 
lamp. — Eh — what,  cautious  ?  I  like  you  the  better ;  but  no 
fear." 

Here  Mr.  Pembroke  with  some  difficulty  stopped  a  torrent 
of  interrogations,  eked  out  with  signs,  nods,  and  winks  ;  and, 
having  at  length  convinced  the  bookseller  that  he  did  him  too 
much  honor  in  supposing  him  an  emissary  of  exiled  royalty,  he 
explained  his  actual  business. 

The  man  of  books  with  a  much  more  composed  air  pro- 
ceeded to  examine  the  manuscripts.  The  title  of  the  first  was, 
"  A  Dissent  from  Dissenters,  or  the  Comprehension  confuted  •, 
showing   the   impossibility  of   any   composition   between   the 


s^ 


IVAVERLEY. 


Church  and  Puritans,  Presbyterians,  or  Sectrtries  of  any  de- 
scription ;  illustrated  from  the  Scriptures,  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church,  and  the  soundest  controversial  Divines."  To  this 
work  the  bookseller  positively  demurred.  "  Well  meant,"  he 
said,  "  and  learned,  doubtless  :  but  the  time  had  gone  by. 
Printed  on  small  pica  it  would  run  to  eight  hundred  pages, 
and  could  never  pay.  Begged  therefore  to  be  excused — Loved 
and  honored  the  true  church  from  his  soul,  and,  had  it  been  a 
sermon  on  the  martyrdom,  or  any  twelve-penny'touch — why  I 
would  venture  something  for  the  honor  of  the  cloth — But  come, 
let's  see  the  other.  "  Right  hereditary  righted  !  " — Ay  !  there's 
some  sense  in  this.     Hum — hum — hum — pages  so  many,  paper 

so  much,  letter-press -Ay — I'll  tell  you,  though,  doctor,  you 

must  knock  out  some  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  ;  heavy,  doctor, 
damn'd  heavy — (beg  your  pardon)  and  if  you  throw  in  a  few 
grains  more  pepper — I  am  he  that  never  preached  my  author — 
I  have  published  for  Drake  and  Charhvood  Lawton,  and  poor 
Amhurst.'  Ah,  Caleb !  Caleb  I  Well,  it  was  a  shame  to  let 
poor  Caleb  starve,  and  so  many  fat  rectors  and  squires  among 
us.  I  gave  him  a  dinner  once  a-\veek  ;  but.  Lord  love  you, 
what's  once  a  week,  when  a  man  does  not  know  where  to  go 
the  other  six  days  ? — Well,  but  I  must  show  the  manuscript  to 
»ittle  Tom  Alibi  the  solicitor,  who  manages  all  my  law  affairs- 
must  keep  on  the  windy  side — the  mob  were  verj'  uncivil  the 
last  time  I  mounted  in  Old  Palace  Yard — all  whigs  and  round- 
heads every  man  of  them,  Williamites  and  Hanover  rats." 

The  next  day  Mr.  Pembroke  again  called  on  the  publisher, 
but  found  Tom  Alibi's  advice  had  determined  him  against  un- 
dertaking the  work.  "  Not  but  what  I  would  go  to — (What  was 
I  going  to  say  ?)  to  the  plantations  for  the  church  with  pleasure 
— but,  dear  doctor,  I  have  a  wife  and  family  ;  but,  to  show  my 
zeal,  I'll  recommend  the  job  to  my  neighbor  Trimmel — he  is  a 
bachelor,  and  leaving  off  business,  so  a  voyage  in  a  western 
barge  would  not  inconvenience  him."  But  Mr.  Trimmel  was 
also  obdurate,  and  Mr.  Pembroke,  fortunately  perchance  for 
himself,  was  compelled  to  return  to  Waverley-Honourwith  his 
treatise  in  vindication  of  the  real  fundamental  principles  of 
church  and  state  safely  packed  in  his  saddle-bags. 

As  the  public  were  thus  likely  to  be  deprived  of  the  benefit 
arising  from  his  lucubrations  by  the  selfish  cowardice  of  the 
trade,  Mr.  Pembroke  resolved  to  make  two  copies  of  these  tre- 
mendous manuscripts  for  the  use  of  his  pupil.  He  felt  that  he 
tad  been  indolent  as  a  tutor,  and,  besides,  his  conscience  checked 
him  for  complying  with  the  request  of  Mr.  Richard  Waverley, 


WAVERLEY.  .  53 

that  he  wouM  impress  no  sentiments  upon  Edward's  mind  in- 
consistent with  the  present  settlement  in  church  and  state. 
"  But  now,"  thouglit  he,  "  I  may  without  breach  of  my  word, 
since  lie  is  no  longer  under  my  tuition,  afford  the  youth  the 
means  of  judging  for  himself,  and  have  only  to  dread  his  re- 
proaches for  so  long  concealing  the  light  which  the  perusal  will 
flash  upon  his  mind."  While  he  thus  indulged  the  reveries  of 
an  author  and  a  politician,  his  darling  proselyte,  seeing  nothing 
i^ery  inviting  in  the  title  of  the  tracts,  and  appalled  by  the  bulk 
and  compact  lines  of  the  manuscript,  quietly  consigned  them  tg 
a  corner  of  his  travelling  trunk. 

Aunt  Rachel's  farewell  was  brief  and  affectionate.  She 
only  cautioned  her  dear  Edward,  whom  she  probably  deemed 
somewhat  susceptible,  against  the  fascination  of  Scottish  beauty. 
She  allowed  that  the  northern  part  of  the  island  contained  some 
ancient  families,  but  they  were  all  whlgs  and  presbyterians  ex- 
cept the  Highlanders ;  and  respecting  them  she  must  needs 
say,  there  could  be  no  great  delicacy  among  the  ladies,  where 
the  gentleman's  usual  attire  was,  as  she  had  been  assured,  to 
say  the  least,  very  singular,  and  not  at  all  decorous.  She  con- 
cluded her  farev;ell  with  a  kind  and  moving  benediction,  and 
gave  the  young  officer,  as  a  pledge  of  her  regard,  a  valuable 
diamond  ring  (often  worn  by  the  male  sex  at  that  time),  and  a 
purse  of  broad  gold  pieces,  which  also  were  more  common  Sixty 
Years  Since  than  they  have  been  of  late. 


CHAPTER   SEVENTH. 

A   HORSE-QUARTER   IN  SCOTLAND. 

The  next  morning,  amid  varied  feelings,  the  chief  of  which 
was  a  predominant,  anxious,  and  even  solemn  impression,  that 
he  was  now  in  a  great  measure  abandoned  to  his  own  guidance 
and  direction,  Edward  Waverley  departed  from  the  Hall  amid 
the  blessings  and  tears  of  all  the  old  domestics  and  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  village,  mingled  with  some  sly  petitions  for  ser- 
geantcies  and  corporalships,  and  so  forth,  on  the  part  of  those 
who  professed  that  they  never  '  thoft  to  ha'  seen  Jacob,  and 
Giles,  and  Jonathan,  go  off  for  soldiers,  save  to  attend  his  honor, 
as  in  duty  bound.'     Edward,  as  in  duty  bound,  extricated  him* 


54  ItTAVERLEY. 

self  from  the  supplicants  with  the  pledge  of  fewer  promises 
than  might  have  been  expected  from  a  young  man  so  little  ac- 
customed to  tlie  world.  After  a  short  visit  to  London,  he  pro- 
ceeded on  horseback,  then  the  general  mode  of  travelling,  to 
Edinburgh,  and  from  thence  to  Dundee,  a  seaport  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  Angusshire,  where  his  regiment  was  then  quartered. 

He  now  entered  upon  a  new  world,  where,  for  a  time,  all 
was  beautiful  because  all  was  new.  Colonel  Gardiner,  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  regiment,  was  himself  a  study  for  a 
romantic,  and  at  the  same  time  an  inquisitive  youth.  In  person 
he  was  tall,  handsome,  and  active,  though  somewhat  advanced 
in  life.  In  his  early  years,  he  had  been  what  is  called,  by 
manner  of  palliative,  a  very  gay  young  man,  and  strange  stories 
U'cre  circulated  about  his  sudden  conversion  from  doubt,  if  not 
infidelity,  to  a  serious  and  even  enthusiastic  turn  of  mind.  It 
was  whispered  that  a  supernatural  communication,  of  a  nature 
obvious  even  to  the  exterior  senses,  had  produced  this  won- 
derful change  ;  and  though  some  mentioned  the  proselyte  as 
an  enthusiast,  none  hinted  at  his  being  a  hypocrite.  This 
singular  and  mystical  circumstance  gave  Colonel  Gardiner  a 
peculiar  and  solemn  interest  in  the  e3-es  of  the  young  soldier.  ^ 
It  may  be  easily  imagined  that  the  officers  of  a  regiment,  com- 
manded by  so  respectable  a  person,  composed  a  society  more 
sedate  and  orderly  than  a  military  mess  always  exhibits  ;  and 
that  Waverley  escaped  some  temptations  to  which  he  might 
otherwise  have  been  exposed. 

Meanwhile  his  military  education  proceeded.  Already  a 
good  horseman,  he  was  now  hiitiated  into  the  arts  of  the  ma- 
nege, which,  when  carried  to  perfection,  almost  realize  the  fable 
of  the  Centaur,  the  guidance  of  the  horse  appearing  to  pro- 
ceed from  the  rider's  mere  volition,  rather  than  from  the  use 
of  any  external  and  apparent  signal  of  motion.  He  received 
also  instructions  in  his  field  duty  ;  but  I  must  own,  that  when 
his  first  ardor  was  past  his  progress  fell  short  in  the  latter 
particular  of  what  he  wished  and  expected.  The  duty  of  an 
officer,  the  most  imposing  of  all  others  to  the  inexperienced 
mind,  because  accompanied  with  so  much  outward  pomp  and 
circumstance,  is  in  its  essence  a  very  dry  and  abstract  task, 
depending  chiefly  upon  arithmetical  combinations,  requiring 
much  attention,  and  a  cool  and  reasoning  head  to  bring  them 
into  action.  Our  hero  was  liable  to  fits  of  absence,  in  which 
his  blunders  excited  some  mirth,  and  called  down  some  re- 
proof. This  circumstance  impressed  him  with  a  painful  sense 
of  inferiority  in  those  qualities  which  appeared  most  to  deserve 


WAVERLEY. 


55 


and  obtain  regard  in  his  new  profession.  He  asked  nimself  in 
vain,  why  his  eye  could  not  judge  of  distance  or  space  so  well 
as  those  of  his  companions  ;  why  his  head  was  not  always  suc- 
cessful in  disentangling  the  various  partial  movements  neces- 
sary to  execute  a  particular  evolution  ;  and  why  his  memory, 
80  alert  upon  most  occasions,  did  not  correctly  retain  tech- 
nical phrases,  and  minute  points  of  etiquette  or  field  discipline. 
Waverley  was  naturally  modest,  and  therefore  did  not  fall  into 
the  egregious  mistake  of  supposing  such  minuter  rules  of  mili- 
tary duty  beneath  his  notice,  or  conceiting  himself  to  be  born 
a  general,  because  he  made  an  indifferent  subaltern.  The 
truth  was,  that  the  vague  and  unsatisfactory  course  of  reading 
which  he  had  pursued,  working  upon  a  temper  naturally  retired 
and  abstracted,  had  given  him  that  wavering  and  unsettled 
habit  of  mind  which  is  most  averse  to  study  and  rivetted  atten- 
tion. Time,  in  the  mean  while,  hung  heavy  on  his  hands.  The 
gentry  of  the  neighborhood  were  disaffected,  and  showed  little 
hospitality  to  the  military  guests ;  and  the  people  of  the  town, 
chiefly  engaged  in  mercantile  pursuits,  were  not  such  as  Wa* 
verley  chose  to  associate  with.  The  arrival  of  summer,  and  a 
curiosity  to  know  something  more  of  Scotland  than  he  could 
see  in  a  ride  from  his  quarters,  determined  him  to  request  leave 
of  absence  for  a  few  weeks.  He  resolved  first  to  visit  his 
uncle's  ancient  friend  and  correspondent,  with  a  purpose  of 
extending  or  shortening  the  time  of  his  residence  according  to 
circumstances.  He  travelled  of  course  on  horseback,  and  with 
a  single  attendant,  and  passed  his  first  night  at  a  miserable  inn, 
where  the  landlady  had  neither  shoes  nor  stockings,  and  the 
landlord,  who  called  himself  a  gentleman,  was  disposed  to  be 
rude  to  his  guest,  because  he  had  not  bespoke  the  pleasure  of  his 
society  to  supper.''  The  next  day,  traversing  an  open  and  un- 
enclosed country,  Edward  gradually  approached  the  Highlands 
of  Perthshire,  which  at  first  had  appeared  a  blue  outline  in  the 
horizon,  but  now  swelled  into  huge  gigantic  masses,  which 
frowned  defiance  over  the  more  level  country  that  lay  beneath 
them.  Near  the  bottom  of  this  stupendous  barrier,  but  still  in 
the  Lowland  country,  dwelt  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine  of 
Bradwardine  ;  and  if  gray-haired  eld  can  be  in  aught  believed, 
there  had  dwelt  his  ancestors,  with  all  their  heritage,  since  thf 
days  of  the  gracious  King  Duncan. 


56  IVA  VERIER. 

CHAPTER   EIGHTH. 

A  SCOTTISH   MANOR-HOUSE  SIXTY  YEARS  SINCE. 

It  was  about  noon  when  Captain  Waverley  entered  the 
Straggling  village,  or  rather  hamlet,  of  Tully-Veolan,  close  to 
which  was  situated  the  mansion  of  the  proprietor.  The  houses 
seemed  miserable  in  the  extreme,  especially  to  an  eye  accus- 
tomed to  the  smiling  neatness  of  English  cottages.  They  stooci, 
without  any  respect  for  regularity,  on  each  side  of  a  straggling 
kind  of  unpaved  street,  where  children,  almost  in  a  primitive 
State  of  nakedness,  lay  sprawling,  as  if  to  be  crushed  by  the 
hoofs  of  the  first  passing  horse.  Occasionally,  indeed,  when 
such  a  consummation  seemed  inevitable,  a  watchful  old  gran- 
dame,  with  hf-  close  cap,  distaff,  and  spindle,  rushed  like  a 
sibyl  in  frenzy  out  of  one  of  these  miserable  cells,  dashed  into 
the  middle  of  the  path,  and  snatching  up  her  own  charge  from 
among  the  sun-burnt  loiterers,  saluted  him  with  a  sound  cuff, 
and  transported  him  back  to  his  dungeon,  the  little  white- 
headed  varlet  screaming  all  the  while  from  the  very  top  of  his 
lungs  a  shrilly  treble  to  the  growling  remonstrances  of  the  en 
raged  matron.  Another  part  in  this  concert  was  sustained  by 
the  incessant  yelping  of  a  score  of  idle  useless  curs,  which  fal- 
lowed, snarling,  barking,  howling,  and  snapping  at  the  horses' 
heels  ;  a  nuisance  at  that  time  so  common  in  Scotland,  that  a 
French  tourist,  who,  like  other  travellers,  longed  to  find  a  good 
and  rational  reason  for  everything  he  saw,  has  recorded,  as 
one  of  the  memorabilia  of  Caledonia,  that  the  state  maintained 
in  each  village  a  relay  of  curs,  called  collies,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  chase  the  chcvaux  de  poste  (too  starved  and  exhausted  to 
move  without  such  a  stimulus)  from  one  hamlet  to  another,  till 
their  annoying  convoy  drove  them  to  the  end  of  their  stage. 
The  evil  and  remedy  (such  as  it  is)  still  exist  :  But  this  is  re- 
mote from  our  present  purpose,  and  is  only  thrown  out  for 
consideration  of  the  collectors  under  Mr.  Dent's  dog-bill. 

As  Waverley  moved  on,  here  and  there  an  old  man,  bent 
as  much  by  toil  as  years,  his  eyes  bleared  with  age  and  smoke, 
tottered  to  the  door  of  his  hut,  to  gaze  on  the  dress  of  the 
stranger  and  the  form  and  motions  of  the  horses,  and  then  as- 
sembled, with  his  neighbors,  in  a  little  group  at  the  smithy,  to 
discuss  the  probabilities  of   whence  the  stranger  came,  and 


WAVER  LEY  5^ 

where  he  might  be  going.  Three  or  four  village  girls,  return- 
ing from  the  well  or  brook  with  pitchers  and  pails  upon  their 
heads,  formed  more  pleasing  objects,  and,  with  their  thin  short- 
gowns  and  single  petticoats,  bare  arms,  legs,  and  feet,  un- 
covered heads  and  braided  hair,  somewhat  resembled  Italian 
forms  of  landscape.  Nor  could  a  lover  of  the  picturesque  have 
challenged  either  the  elegance  of  their  costume,  or  the  sym- 
metry of  their  shape,  although,  to  say  the  truth,  a  mere  Eng^ 
lishman,  in  search  of  the  comfortable,  a  word  peculiar  to  his 
native  tongue,  might  have  wished  the  clothes  less  scanty,  the 
feet  and  legs  somewhat  protected  from  the  weather,  the  head 
and  complexion  shrouded  from  the  sun,  or  perhaps  might  even 
have  thought  the  whole  person  and  dress  considerably  im- 
proved, by  a  plentiful  application  of  spring  water,  with  a  quan- 
tum sufficit  of  soap.  The  whole  scene  was  depressing,  for  it 
argued,  at  the  first  glance,  at  least  a  stagnation  of  industry,  and 
perhaps  of  intellect.  Even  curiosity,  the  busiest  passion  of  the 
idle,  seemed  of  a  listless  cast  in  the  village  of  Tully-Veolan  : 
the  curs  aforesaid  alone  showed  any  part  of  its  activity  ;  with 
the  villagers  it  was  passive.  They  stood  and  gazed  at  the 
handsome  young  officer  and  his  attendant,  but  without  any  of 
those  quick  motions  and  eager  looks  that  indicate  the  earnest- 
ness with  which  those  who  live  in  monotonous  ease  at  home, 
look  out  for  amusement  abroad.  Yet  the  physiognomy  of  the 
people,  when  more  closely  examined,  was  far  from  exhibiting 
the  indifference  of  stupidity  ;  their  features  were  rough,  but 
remarkably  intelligent,  grave,  but  the  very  reverse  of  stupid  ; 
and  from  among  the  young  women,  an  artist  might  have  chosen 
more  than  one  model  whose  features  and  form  resembled  those 
of  Minerva.  The  children  also,  whose  skins  were  burnt  black, 
and  whose  hair  was  bleached  white,  by  the  influence  of  the  sun, 
bad  a  look  and  manner  of  life  and  interest.  It  seemed,  upon 
the  whole,  as  if  poverty,  and  indolence,  its  too  frequent  com- 
panion, were  combining  to  depress  the  natural  genius  and  ac- 
quired information  of  a  hardy,  intelligent,  and  reflecting  peas- 
antry. 

Some  such  thoughts  crossed  Waverley's  mind  as  he  paced 
his  horse  slowly  through  the  rugged  and  flinty  street  of  Tully- 
Veolan,  interrupted  only  in  his  meditations  by  the  occasional 
cabrioles  which  his  charger  exhibited  at  the  reiterated  assaults 
of  those  canine  Cossacks,  the  collies  before  mentioned.  The 
village  was  more  than  half  a  mile  long,  the  cottages  being 
irregularly  divided  from  each  other  by  gardens,  or  yardS(  as 
the  inhabitants  called  them,   of  different  yz^s  where  (for  it 


58  WAVER  LEY. 

Is  SixtyYears  Since)  the  now  universal  potato  was  unknowt\ 
but  which  were  stored  with  gigant'c  plants  of  kale  or  colewort 
encircled  with  groves  of  nettles,  and  exhibited  here  and  there 
a  huge  hemlock,  or  the  national  thistle,  overshadowing  a  quarter 
of  the  petty  inclosure.  The  broken  ground  on  which  the 
village  was  built  had  never  been  levelled,  so  that  these  inclosures 
presented  declivities  of  every  degree,  here  rising  like  terraces, 
there  sinking  like  tan-pits.  The  dry-stone  walls  which  fenced, 
or  seemed  to  fence  (for  they  were  sorely  breached),  these 
hanging  gardens  of  Tully-Veolan,  where  intersected  by  a  narrow 
lane  leading  to  the  common  field,  where  the  joint  labor  of  the 
villagers  cultivated  alternate  ridges  and  patches  of  rye,  oats, 
barley,  and  pease,  each  of  such  minute  extent,  that  at  a  little 
distance  the  unprofitable  variety  of  the  surface  resembled  a 
tailor's  book  of  patterns.  In  a  few  favored  instances,  t'here 
appeared  behind  the  cottages  a  miserable  wigwam,  compiled  of 
earth,  loose  stones,  and  turf,  where  the  wealthy  might  perhaps 
shelter  a  starved  cow  or  sorely  galled  horse.  But  almost  every 
hut  was  fenced  in  front  by  a  huge  black  stack  of  turf  on  one 
side  of  the  door,  while  on  the  other  the  family  dunghill  ascended 
in  noble  emulation. 

About  a  bow-shot  from  the  end  of  the  village  appeared  the 
inclosures,  proudly  denominated  the  parks  of  Tully-Veolan, 
being  certain  square  fields,  surrounded  and  divided  by  stone 
walls  five  feet  in  height.  In  the  centre  of  the  exterior  barrier 
was  the  upper  gate  of  the  avenue,  opening  under  an  archway, 
battlemented  on  the  top,  and  adorned  with  two  large  weather- 
beaten  mutilated  masses  of  upright  stone,  which,  if  the  tradition 
of  the  hamlet  could  be  trusted  had  once  represented,  at  least 
had  been  once  designed  to  represent,  two  rampant  bears,  the 
supporters  of  the  family  of  Bradwardine.  This  avenue  was 
straight  and  of  moderate  length,  running  between  a  double  row 
of  very  ancient  horse-chesnuts,  planted  alternately  with  syca 
mores,  which  rose  to  such  huge  height,  and  flourished  so  luxu- 
riantly, that  their  boughs  completely  overarched  the  broad  road 
beneath.  Beyond  these  venerable  ranks,  and  running  parallel 
to  them,  where  two  high  walls,  of  apparently  the  like  antiquily, 
overgrown  with  ivy,  honeysuckle,  and  others  climbing  plants. 
The  avenue  seemed  very  little  trodden,  and  chiefly  by  foot- 
passengers  ;  so  that  being  very  broad,  and  enjoying  a  constant 
shade,  it  was  clothed  with  grass  of  a  deep  and  rich  verdure, 
excepting  where  a  foot-path,  worn  by  occasional  passengers, 
tracked  with  a  natural  sweep  the  way  from  the  upper  to  the 
lowet-  gate.     This  nether  Dortal,  like  the  former,  opened  Id 


WAVEKLEY. 


59 


front  of  a  wall  ornamented  with  some  rude  sculpture,  with 
battlements  on  the  top,  over  which  were  seen,  half-hidden  by 
the  trees  of  the  avenue,  the  high  steep  roofs  and  narrow 
gables  of  the  mansion,  with  lines  indented  into  steps,  and 
corners  decorated  with  small  turrets.  One  of  the  folding 
leaves  of  the  lower  gate  was  open,  and  as  the  sun  shone  full 
into  the  court  behind,  a  long  line  of  brilliancy  was  flung  upon 
the  aperture  up  the  dark  and  gloomy  avenue.  It  was  one  of 
those  effects  which  a  painter  loves  to  represent,  and  mingled 
well  with  the  struggling  light  which  found  its  way  between  the 
boughs  of  the  shady  arch  that  vaulted  the  broad  green  alley. 

The  solitude  and  repose  of  the  whole  scene  seemed  almost 
monastic ;  and  Waverley,  who  had  given  his  horse  to  his 
servant  on  entering  the  first  gate,  walked  slowly  down  the 
avenue,  enjoying  the  grateful  and  cooling  shade,  and  so  much 
pleased  with  the  placid  ideas  of  rest  and  seclusion  excited  by 
this  confined  and  quiet  scene,  that  he  forgot  the  misery  and 
dirt  of  the  hamlet  he  had  left  behind  him.  The  opening  into 
the  paved  court-yard  corresponded  with  the  rest  of  the  scene. 
The  house,  which  seemed  to  consist  of  two  or  three  high, 
narrow,  and  steep-roofed  buildings,  projected  from  each  other 
at  right  angles,  formed  one  side  of  the  inclosure.  It  had  been 
built  at  a  period  when  castles  where  no  longer  necessary,  and 
when  the  Scottish  architects  had  not  yet  acquired  the  art  of 
designing  a  domestic  residence.  The  windows  were  number- 
less, but  very  small ;  the  roof  had  some  nondescript  kind  of 
projections,  called  bartizans,  and  displayed  at  each  frequent 
angle  a  small  turret,  rather  resembling  a  pepper-box  than  a 
Gothic  watch-tower.  Neither  did  the  front  indicate  absolute 
security  from  danger.  There  were  loop-holes  for  musketry, 
and  iron  stanchions  on  the  lower  windows,  probably  to  repel 
any  roving  band  of  gypsies,  or  resist  a  predatory  visit  from  the 
caterans  of  the  neighboring  Highlands.  Stables  and  other 
offices  occupied  another  side  of  the  square.  The  former  were 
low  vaults,  with  narrow  slits  instead  of  windows,  resembling, 
as  Edward's  groom  observed,  "  rather  a  prison  for  murderers 
and  larceners,  and  such  like  as  are  tried  at  sizes,  than  a  place 
for  any  Christian  cattle."  Above  these  dungeon-looking  stables 
were  granaries,  called  girnels,  and  other  offices,  to  which  there 
was  access  by  outside  stairs  of  heavy  masonry.  Two  battle 
mented  walls,  one  of  which  faced  the  avenue,  and  the  other 
divided  the  court  from  the  garden,  completed  the  inclosure. 

Nor  was  the  court  without  its  ornaments.     In  one  corner 
was  a  tun-bellied  pigeon-house,  of  great  size  and  rotunditj^ 


Co  tFAP'ERLEY. 

resembling  in  figure  and  proportion  the  curious  edifice  called 
Arthur's  Oven,  which  would  liave  turned  the  brains  of  all  the 
antiquaries  in  England,  had  not  the  worthy  proprietor  pulled 
it  down  for  the  sake  of  mending  a  neighboring  dam-dyke. 
This  dove-cote,  or  columbarium,  as  the  owner  called  it,  was  no 
small  resource  to  a  Scottish  laird  of  that  period,  whose  scanty 
rents  where  eked  out  by  the  contributions  levied  upon  the 
farms  by  these  light  foragers,  and  the  conscriptions  exacted 
from  the  latter  for  the  benefit  of  the  table. 

Another  corner  of  the  court  displayed  a  fountain,  where  a 
huge  bear,  carved  in  stone,  predominated  over  a  large  stone 
basin,  into  which  he  disgorged  the  water.  This  work  of  art 
was  the  wonder  of  the  country  ten  miles  round.  It  must  not 
be  forgotten,  that  all  sorts  of  bears,  small  and  large,  demi  or 
in  full  proportion,  were  carved  over  the  windows,  upon  the 
ends  of  the  gables,  terminated  the  spouts,  and  supported  the 
turrets,  with  tliu  ancient  family  motto  "  ^CTDiir  tl)C  tJcir,"  cut 
under  each  hyperborean  form.  The  court  was  spacious,  well 
paved,  and  perfectly  clean,  there  being  probably  another  en- 
trance behind  the  stables  for  removing  the  litter.  Everything 
around  appeared  solitary,  and  would  have  been  silent,  but  for 
the  continued  plashing  of  the  fountain  ;  and  the  whole  scene 
still  maintained  the  monastic  illusion  which  the  fancy  of  Waver- 
ley  had  conjured  up.^°  And  here  we  beg  permission  to  close 
a  chapter  of  still  life. 


CHAPTER   NINTH. 

MORE  OF   THE  MANOR-HOUSE  AND   ITS   ENVIRONS. 

After  having  satisfied  his  curiosity  by  gazing  around  him 
for  a  few  minutes,  Waverley  applied  himself  to  the  massive 
knocker  of  the  hall-door,  the  architrave  of  which  bore  the  date 
1594.  But  no  answer  was  returned,  though  the  peal  resounded 
through  a  number  of  apartments,  and  was  echoed  from  the 
court-yard  walls  W'ithout  the  house,  startling  the  pigeons  from 
the  venerable  rotunda  which  they  occupied,  and  alarming  anew 
even  the  distant  village  curs,  which  had  retired  to  sleep  upon 
their  respective  dunghills.  Tired  of  the  din  which  he  created, 
^nd  the  unprofitable  responses  which    it  excited,   Waverley 


tVAVERLEV.  6, 

began  to  think  that  he  had  reached  the  castle  of  Orgoglio,  as 
entered  by  the  victorious  Prince  Arthur, 

When  'gan  he  loudly  through  the  house  to  call, 

But  no  man  cared  to  answer  to  his  cry ; 
There  reign'd  a  solemn  silence  over  all, 
Nor  voice  was  heard,  nor  wight  was  seen  in  bower  or  hall. 

Filled  almost  with  expectation  of  beholding  some  "  old,  old 
man,  with  beard  as  white  as  snow,"  whom  he  might  question 
concerning  this  deserted  mansion,  our  hero  turned  to  a  little 
oaken  wicket-door,  well  clenched  with  iron  nails,  which  opened 
in  the  court-yard  wall  at  its  angle  with  the  house.  It  was  only 
latched,  notwithstanding  its  fortified  appearance,  and,  when 
opened,  admitted  him  into  the  garden,  which  presented  a 
pleasant  scene."  The  southern  side  of  the  house,  clothed  with 
fruit  trees,  and  having  many  evergreens  trained  upon  its  walls, 
extended  its  irregular  yet  venerable  front,  along  a  terrace, 
partly  paved,  partly  gravelled,  partly  bordered  with  flowers  and 
choice  shrubs.  This  elevation  descended  by  three  several 
flights  of  steps,  placed  in  its  centre  and  at  the  extremities,  into 
what  might  be  called  the  garden  proper,  and  was  fenced  along 
the  top  by  a  stone  parapet  with  a  heavy  balustrade,  ornamented 
from  space  to  space  with  huge  grotesque  figures  of  animals 
seated  upon  their  haunches,  among  which  the  favorite  bear 
was  repeatedly  introduced.  Placed  in  the  middle  of  the  terrace, 
between  a  sashed-door  opening  from  the  house  and  the  central 
flight  of  steps,  a  huge  animal  of  the  same  species  supported  on 
his  head  and  fore-paws  a  sun-dial  of  large  circumference,  in- 
scribed with  more  diagrams  than  Edward's  mathematics  enabled 
him  to  decipher. 

The  garden,  which  seemed  to  be  kept  wfth  great  accuracy, 
abounded  in  fruit  trees,  and  exhibited  a  profusion  of  flowers 
and  evergreens,  cut  into  grotesque  forms.  It  was  laid  out  in 
terraces,  which  descended  rank  by  rank  from  the  western  wall 
to  a  large  brook,  which  had  a  tranquil  and  smooth  appearance, 
where  it  served  as  a  boundary  to  the  garden  ;  but,  near  the 
extremity,  leapt  in  tumult  over  a  strong  dam,  or  wear-head, 
the  cause  of  its  temporary  tranquillity,  and  there  forming  a  cas- 
cade, was  overlooked  by  an  octangular  summer-house,  with  a 
gilded  bear  on  the  top  by  way  of  vane.  After  this  feat,  the 
brook,  assuming  its  natural  rapid  and  fierce  character,  escaped 
from  the  eye  down  a  deep  and  wooded  dell,  from  the  copse  of 
which  arose  a  massive,  but  ruinous  tower,  the  former  habitaMon 
of  the  Barons  of  Bradwardine.     The   margin  of   the  b'  /ok, 


62  IVAVERLEY. 

opposite  to  the  garden,  displayed  a  narrow  meadow,  or  haugh^ 
as  it  was  called,  which  formed  a  small  washing-green ;  tho 
bank,  which  retired  behind  it,  was  covered  by  ancient  trees. 

The  scene,  though  pleasing,  was  not  quite  equal  to  the 
gardens  of  Alcina  ;  yet  wanted  not  the  "  due  donzelette garmle" 
of  that  enchanting  paradise,  for  upon  the  green  aforesaid,  two- 
bare-legged  damsels,  each  standing  in  a  spacious  tub,  performed 
with  their  feet  the  office  of  a  patent  washing-machine.  These 
did  not  however,  like  the  maidens  of  Armida,  remain  to  greet 
with  their  harmony  the  approaching  guest,  but  alarmed  at  the 
appearance  of  a  handsome  stranger  on  the  opposite  side,  dropped 
their  garments  (I  should  say  garment,  to  be  quite  correct)  over 
their  limbs,  which  their  occupation  exposed  somewhat  too 
freely,  and,  with  a  shrill  exclamation  of  "  Eh,  sirs  !  "  uttered 
with  an  accent  between  modesty  and  coquetry,  sprung  off  like 
deer  in  different  directions. 

Waverley  began  to  despair  of  gaining  entrance  into  this  soli- 
tary and  seemingly  enchanted  mansion,  when  a  man  advanced 
up  one  of  the  garden  alleys,  where  he  still  retained  his  station. 
Trusting  this  might  be  a  gardener,  or  some  domestic  belonging 
to  the  house,  Edward  descended  the  steps  in  order  to  meet 
him ;  but  as  the  figure  approached,  and  long  before  he  could 
descry  its  features,  he  was  struck  with  the  oddity  of  its  appear- 
ance and  gestures.  Sometimes  this  mister  wight  held  his  hands 
clasped  over  his  head,  like  an  Indian  Jogue  in  the  attitude  of 
penance  ;  sometimes  he  swung  them  perpendicularly,  like  a 
pendulum,  on  each  side  ;  and  anon  he  slapped  them  swiftly 
and  repeatedly  across  his  breast,  like  the  substitute  used  by  a 
hackney-coachman  for  his  usual  flogging  exercise  when  his 
cattle  are  idle  upon  the  stand,  in  a  clear  frosty  day.  His  gait 
was  as  singular  as  his  gestures,  for  at  times  he  hopp'd  with 
great  perseverance  on  the  right  foot,  then  exchanged  that  sup- 
porter to  advance  in  the  same  manner  on  the  left,  and  then 
putting  his  feet  close  together,  he  hopp'd  upon  both  at  once. 
His  attire  also  was  antiquated  and  extravagant.  It  consisted  in 
a  sort  of  gray  jerkin,  with  scarlet  cuffs  and  slash'd  sleeves  show- 
ing a  scarlet  lining ;  the  other  parts  of  the  dress  corresponded 
in  color,  not  forgetting  a  pair  of  scarlet  stockings,  and  a  scarlet 
bonnet,  proudly  surmounted  with  a  turkey's  feather.  Edward, 
whom  he  did  not  seem  to  obser\^e,  now  perceived  confirmation 
in  his  features  of  what  the  mien  and  gestures  had  already  an- 
nounced. It  was  apparently  neither  idiocy  nor  insanity  which 
gave  that  wild,  unsettled,  irregular  expression  to  a  face  which 
jiaturally  was  rather  handsome,  but  something  that  resembled  a 


WAVE  RLE  7  63 

BOmpounJ  of  both,  where  the  simplicity  of  the  fool  was  mixed 
with  the  extravagance  of  a  crazed  imagination.  He  sung  with 
great  earnestness,  and  not  without  some  taste,  a  fragment  of  aa 
old  Scotch  ditty : 

12  False  love,  and  hast  thou  play'd  me  this 

In  summer  among  the  flowers  ? 
1  will  repay  thee  back  again 

In  winter  among  the  showers. 
Unless  again,  again,  my  love, 

Unless  you  turn  again  ; 
As  you  with  other  maidens  rove, 

I'll  smile  on  other  men. 

Here  lifting  up  his  eyes,  which  had  hitherto  been  fixed  in 
obsei-ving  how  his  feet  kept  time  to  the  tune,  he  beheld  Waver- 
ley,  and  instantly  doff'd  his  cap,  with  many  grotesque  signals 
of  surprise,  respect,  and  salutation.  Edward,  though  with  little 
hope  of  receiving  an  answer  to  any  constant  question,  requested 
to  know  whether  Mr.  Bradwardine  were  at  home,  or  where  he 
could  find  any  of  the  domestics.  The  questioned  party  replied, 
and  like  the  witch  of  Thalaba,  "  still  his  speech  was  song," — 

The  Knight's  to  the  mountain 

His  bugle  to  wind  ; 
The  Lady's  to  greenwood 

Her  garland  to  bind. 
The  bower  of  Burd  Ellen 

Has  moss  on  the  floor, 
That  the  step  of  Lord  William 

Be  silent  and  sure. 

This  conveyed  no  information,  and  Edward,  repeating  his 
queries,  received  a  rapid  answer,  in  which,  from  the  haste  and 
peculiarity  of  the  dialect,  the  word  "  butler  "  was  alone  intelli- 
gible. Waverley  then  requested  to  see  the  butler  ;  upon  which 
the  fellow,  with  a  knowing  look  and  nod  of  intelligence,  made  a 
signal  to  Edward  to  follow,  and  began  to  dance  and  caper  down 
the  alley  up  which  he  had  made  his  approaches. — "  A  strange 
guide  this,"  thought  Edward,  "  and  not  much  unlike  one  of 
Shakspeare's  roynish  clowns.  I  am  not  over  prudent  to  trust 
to  his  pilotage  ;  but  wiser  men  have  been  led  by  fools." — By 
this  time  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  alley,  where,  turning 
short  on  a  little  parterre  of  flowers,  shrouded  from  the  east  and 
north  by  a  close  yew  hedge,  he  found  an  old  man  at  work 
without  his  coat,  whose  appearance  hovered  between  that  of  an 
upper  servant  and  gardener  ;  his  red  nose  and  rufifled  shirt  be- 
longing to  the  former  profession  ;  and  his  hale  and  sun-burnt 
visage,  with  his  green  apron,  appearing  to  indicate 

Old  Adam's  likeness,  set  to  dress  this  garden. 


64  WAVER  LEY 

The  major  domo,  for  such  he  was,  and  indisputably  the  sec- 
ond ofucer  of  slate  in  ihe  barony  (nay,  as  chief  minister  of  the 
interior,  superior  even  to  Baillie  Macwheeble,  in  his  own  depart- 
ment of  the  kitchen  and  ceUar), — the  major  doino  laid  down  his 
spade,  slipped  on  his  coat  in  haste,  and  with  a  wrathful  look  at 
Edward's  guide,  probably  excited  by  his  having  introduced  a 
stranger  while  he  was  engaged  in  this  laborious,  and,  as  he 
might  suppose  it,  degrading  office,  requested  to  know  the  gen- 
tleman's commands.  Being  informed  that  he  wished  to  pay 
his  respects  to  his  master,  that  his  name  was  Waverley,  and  so 
forth,  the  old  man's  countenance  assumed  a  great  deal  of  re- 
spectful importance.  "  He  could  take  it  upon  his  conscience  to 
say,  his  honor  would  have  exceeding  pleasure  in  seeing  him. 
Would  not  Mr.  Waverley  choose  some  refreshment  after  his 
journey  ?  His  honor  was  with  the  folk  who  were  getting  doon 
the  dark  hag  ;  the  twa  gardener  lads  (an  emphasis  on  the  word 
two)  had  been  ordered  to  attend  him  j  and  he  had  been  just 
amusing  himself  in  the  mean  time  with  dressing  Miss  Rose's 
flower-bed,  that  he  might  be  near  to  receive  his  honor's  orders, 
if  need  were  :  he  was  very  fond  of  a  garden,  but  had  little  time 
for  such  divertisements.'' 

"  He  canna  get  it  wrought  in  abune  twa  days  in  the  week, 
at  no  rate  whatever,"  said  Edward's  fantastic  conductor. 

A  grim  look  from  the  butler  chastised  his  inteference,  and 
he  commanded  him,  by  the  name  of  Davie  Gellatley,  in  a  tone 
which  admitted  no  discussion,  to  look  for  his  honor  at  the  dark 
hag,  and  tell  him  there  was  a  gentleman  from  the  south  had 
arrived  at  the  Ha'. 

"  Can  this  poor  fellow  deliver  a  letter  ?  "  asked  Edward. 

"  With  all  fidelity,  sir,  to  any  one  whom  he  respects.  I 
would  hardly  trust  him  with  a  long  message  by  word  of  mouth 
—though  he  is  more  knave  than  fool." 

Waverley  delivered  his  credentials  to  Mr.  Gellatley,  who 
seemed  to  confirm  the  butler's  last  obser\-ation,  by  twisting  his 
features  at  him,  when  he  was  looking  another  way,  into  the 
resemblance  of  the  grotesque  face  on  the  bole  of  a  German 
tobacco-pipe  ;  after  which,  with  an  odd  conge'  to  Waverley,  he 
danced  oflf  to  discharge  his  errand. 

"  He  is  an  innocent,  sir,"  said  the  butler ;  "  there  is  one 
such  in  almost  every  town  in  the  country^  but  ours  is  brought 
far  ben.  He  used  to  work  a  day's  turn  weel  eneugh ;  but  he 
help'd  Miss  Rose  when  she  was  flemit  with  the  laird  of  Kil- 
Uincureit's  new  English  bull,  and  since  that  time  we  ca'  him 
!Davie  Do-little ;  indeed  we  might  ca'  him  Davie  Do-naething, 


IVAVERLBV.  65 

for  since  he  got  that  gay  clothing,  to  please  his  honoi  and  my 
young  mistress  (great  folks  will  have  their  fancies),  he  has 
doiie  naething  but  dance  up  and  down  about  the  ioim,  without 
doing  a  single  turn,  unless  trimming  the  laird's  fishing-wand  or 
busking  his  flies,  or  may  be  catching  a  dish  of  trouts  at  any  orra- 
time.  But  here  comes  Miss  Rose,  who,  I  take  burden  upon 
me  for  her,  will  be  especial  glad  to  see  one  of  the  house  of; 
VVaverley  at  her  father's  mansion  of  Tully-Veolan." 

But  Rose  Bradwardine  deserves  better  of  her  unworthy  his- 
torian, than  to  be  introduced  at  the  end  of  a  chapter. 

In  the  meanwhile  it  may  be  noticed,  that  Waverley  learned 
two  things  from  this  colloquy ;  that  in  Scotland  a  single  house 
was  called  a  tow/i  and  a  natural  fool  an  innocent}^ 


CHAPTER  TENTH. 

ROSE   BRADWARDINE   AND    HER   FATHER. 

Miss  Bradwardine  was  but  seventeen ;  yet,  at  the  last 

races  of  the  county  town  of ,  upon  her  health  being  pro* 

posed  among  a  round  of  beauties,  the  Laird  of  Bumperquaigh, 
permanent  toast-master  and  croupier  of  the  Bautherwhillery 
Club,  not  only  said  More  to  the  pledge  in  a  pint  bumper  of  Bor« 
deaux,  but,  ere  pouring  forth  the  libation,  denominated  the  di- 
vinity to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  the  "  Rose  of  Tully-Veolan  ;  " 
•upon  which  festive  occasion,  three  cheers  were  given  by  all  the 
sitting  members  of  that  respectable  society,  whose  throats  the 
wine  had  lef\.  capable  of  such  an  exertion.  Nay,  I  am  well  as- 
sured, that  the  sleeping  partners  of  the  company  snorted  ap- 
plause, and  that  although  strong  bumpers  and  weak  brains  had 
consigned  two  or  three  to  the  floor,  yet  even  these,  fallen  as 
they  were  from  their  high  estate,  and  weltering--~I  will  carry 
the  parody  no  farther — uttered  divers  inarticulate  sounds,  inti- 
mating their  assent  to  the  motion. 

Such  unanimous  applause  could  not  be  extorted  but  by  ac- 
knowledged merit ;  and  Rose  Bradwardine  not  only  deserved 
it,  but  also  the  approbation  of  much  more  rational  j^ersons  than 
the  Bautherwhillery  Club  could  have  mustered,  even  before 
discussion  of  the  first  magnum.  She  wa':  :*  "ficocl  a  very  pretty 
girl  of  the  Scotch  cast  of  beauty,  that  v  .,  '.j.l;. i^^Ilufusiou  «M 


55  IVAVERLEY. 

hair  of  paley  gold,  and  a  skin  like  the  snow  of  her  own  moun« 
tains  in  whiteness.  Yet  she  had  not  a  pallid  or  pensive  cast  of 
countenance ;  her  features,  as  well  as  her  temper,  had  a  lively 
expression ;  her  complexion,  though  not  florid,  was  so  pure  as 
to  seem  transparent,  and  the  slightest  emotion  set  her  whole 
blood  at  once  to  her  face  and  neck.  Her  form,  though  under 
the  common  size,  was  remarkably  elegant,  and  her  motions 
light,  easy,  and  unembarrassed.  She  came  from  another  part 
of  the  garden  to  receive  Captain  Waverley,  with  a  manner  that 
hovered  between  bashfulness  and  courtesy. 

The  first  greetings  past,  Edward  learned  from  her  that  the 
dark  hag,  which  had  somewhat  puzzled  him  in  the  butler's  ac- 
count of  his  master's  avocations,  had  nothing  to  do  either  with 
a  black  cat  or  a  broomstick,  but  was  simply  a  portion  of  oak 
copse  which  was  to  be  felled  that  day.  She  offered,  with 
diffident  civility,  to  show  the  stranger  the  way  to  the  spot, 
which,  it  seems,  was  not  far  distant ;  but  they  were  pre- 
vented by  the  appearance  of  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  in 
person,  who,  summoned  by  David  Gellatley,  now  appeared, 
"on  hospitable  thoughts  intent,"  clearing  the  ground  at  a 
prodigious  rate  with  swift  and  long  strides,  which  reminded 
Waverley  of  the  seven-league  boots  of  the  nursery  fable.  He 
was  a  tall,  thin,  athletic  figure,  old  indeed  and  gray-haired,  but 
with  every  muscle  rendered  as  tough  as  whip-cord  by  constant 
exercise.  He  was  dressed  carelessly,  and  more  like  a  French- 
man than  an  Englishman  of  the  period,  while,  from  his  hard 
features  and  perpendicular  rigidity  of  stature,  he  bore  some  re- 
semblance to  a  Swiss  officer  of  the  guards,  who  had  resided 
some  time  at  Paris,  and  caught  the  costiwte,  but  not  the  ease  or 
manner,  of  its  inhabitants.  The  truth  was,  that  his  language 
and  habits  were  as  heterogeneous  as  his  external  appeararxe. 

Owing  to  his  natural  disposition  to  study,  or  perhaps  to  a 
very  general  Scottish  fashion  of  giving  young  men  of  rank  a 
legal  education,  he  had  been  bred  with  a  view  to  the  bar.  But 
the  politics  of  his  family  precluding  the  hope  of  his  rising  in 
that  profession,  Mr.  Bradwardine  travelled  with  high  reputation 
for  several  years,  and  made  some  campaigns  in  foreign  service. 
After  his  de'mele'e  with  the  law  of  high  treason  in  17 15,  he  had 
lived  in  retirement  conversing  almost  entirely  with  those  of 
his  own  principles  in  the  vicinage.  The  pedantry  of  the  law- 
yer, superinduced  upon  the  military  pride  of  the  soldier,  might 
remind  a  modern  of  the  days  of  the  zealous  volunteer  service, 
when  the  bar-gown  of  our  pleaders  was  often  flung  over  a  blaz- 
ing uniform.     To  this  jnust  be  added  the  prejudices  of  ancient 


WAVERLEY.  67 

birth  and  Jacobite  politics,  greatly  strengthened  by  habits  of 
solitary  and  secluded  authority,  which,  though  exercised  only 
within  the  bounds  of  his  half-cultivated  estate,  was  there  indis- 
putable and  undispuied.  For,  as  he  used  to  observe,  "  the 
lands  of  Bradwardine,  Tully-Veolan,  and  others,  had  been 
erected  into  a  free  barony  by  a  charter  from  David  the  First, 
ctim  liberali  potest,  habcndi  curias  ctjusticias,  cum  fossa  etfurca 
(lie  pit  and  gallows)  etsaka  etsoka,  et  tholettheam,  et  infang-thief  et 
outfang-thief,  sive  hand-habend.  sive  bak-barand."  The  peculiar 
meaning  of  all  these  cabalistical  words  few  or  none  could  ex- 
plain ;  but  they  implied,  upon  the  whole,  that  the  Baron  of  Brad- 
wardine might,  in  case  of  delinquency,  imprison,  try,  and  execute 
his  vassals  at  his  pleasure.  Like  James  the  First,  however,  the 
present  possessor  of  this  authority  was  more  pleased  in  talking 
about  prerogative  than  in  exercising  it ;  and  excepting  that  he 
imprisoned  two  poachers  in  the  dungeon  of  the  old  tower  of 
Tully-Veolan,  where  they  were  sorely  frightened  by  ghosts,  and 
almost  eaten  by  rats,  and  that  he  set  an  old  woman  in  the 
fougs  (or  Scottish  pillory),  for  saying  "  there  were  mair  fules  in 
the  laird's  ha'  house  than  Davie  Gellatley,"  I  do  not  learn  that 
he  was  accused  of  abusing  his  high  powers.  Still,  however, 
the  conscious  pride  of  possessing  them  gave  additional  impor- 
tance to  his  language  and  deportment. 

At  his  first  address  to  Waverley,  it  would  seem  that  the 
hearty  pleasure  he  felt  to  behold  the  nephew  of  his  friend  had 
somewhat  discomposed  the  stiff  and  upright  dignity  of  the 
Baron  of  Bradwardine's  demeanor,  for  the  tears  stood  in  the 
old  gentleman's  eyes,  when,  having  first  shaken  Edward  heartily 
by  the  hand  in  the  English  fashion,  he  embraced  him  a-la-mode 
Franpise,  and  kissed  him  on  both  sides  of  his  face  ;  while  the 
hardness  of  his  gripe,  and  the  quantity  of  Scotch  snuff  which 
his  accolade  communicated,  called  corresponding  drops  of  moist- 
ure to  the  eyes  of  his  guest. 

"  Upon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman,"  he  said,  "  but  it  makes 
me  young  again  to  see  you  here,  Mr.  Waverley !  A  worthy 
scion  of  the  old  stock  of  Waverley-Honour — spes  altera,  as  Maro 
hath  it — and  you  have  the  look  of  the  old  line.  Captain  Waver- 
ley ;  not  so  portly  yet  as  my  old  friend  Sir  Everard — mais  cela 
viendra  ax>ec  le  terns,  as  my  Dutch  acquaintance.  Baron  Kikkit- 
broeck,  said  of  the  sagesse  of  Madame  son  epouse. — And  so  ye 
have  mounted  the  cockade  ?  Right,  right ;  though  I  could 
have  wished  the  color  different,  and  so  I  would  ha'  deemed 
might  Sir  Everard.  But  no  more  of  that ;  I  am  old,  and  times 
are  changed. — And  how  does  the  worthy  knight  baronet,  and 


68  IVAVERLEy. 

the  fair  Mrs.  Rachel  ? — Ah,  3-e  laugh,  young  man  !  In  troth  sht 
was  the  fair  Mrs.  Rachel  in  the  year  of  grace  seventeen  hun- 
dred and  sixteen  ;  but  time  passes — ef  singula  prcedantur  anni 
— that  is  most  certain.  But  once  again,  ye  are  most  heartily 
welcome  to  my  poor  house  of  Tully-Veolan  ! — Hie  to  the  house, 
Rose,  and  see  that  Alexander  Saunderson  looks  out  the  old 
Chateau  IMargoux,  which  I  sent  from  Bordeaux  to  Dundee  in 
the  year  17 13." 

Rose  tripped  off  demurely  enough  till  she  turned  the  first 
corner,  and  then  ran  with  the  speed  of  a  fairy,  that  she  might 
gain  leisure,  after  discharging  her  father's  commission,  to  put 
her  own  dress  in  order,  and  produce  all  her  little  finery,  an  oc- 
cupation for  which  the  approaching  dinner-hour  left  but  limited 
time. 

"  We  cannot  rival  the  luxuries  of  your  English  table.  Cap- 
tain Waverley,  or  give  you  the  epulce  lautiorcs  of  Waverley- 
Honour — I  say  epulce  rather  than  prandium,  because  the  latter 
phrase  is  popular  ;  Epulce  adsmatiwi,  prandium  vero  adpopulum 
attinct,  says  Suetonius  Tranquillus.  But  I  trust  ye  will  ap- 
plaud my  Bordeaux  ;  c\'st  des  doux  oreiUes,  as  Captain  Vinsauf 
use  to  say — Vimim  pj'i7ms  fwfce,  \.\\q  Principal  of  St.  Andrews 
denominated  it.  And,  once  more,  Captain  Waverley,  right 
glad  am  I  that  ye  are  here  to  drink  the  best  my  cellar  can 
make  forthcoming." 

This  speech,  with  the  necessary  interjectional  answers,  con- 
tinued from  the  lower  alley  where  they  met,  up  to  the  door  of 
the  house,  where  four  or  five  servants  in  old-fashioned  liveries, 
headed  by  Alexander  Saunderson  the  butler,  who  now  bore  no 
token  of  the  sable  stains  of  the  garden,  received  them  in  grand 
coshime, 

In  an  old  hall  hung  round  with  pikes  and  with  bows, 

With  old  bucklers  and  corslets  that  had  borne  many  shrewd  blows. 

With  much  ceremony,  and  still  more  real  kindness,  the  Baron, 
without  stopping  in  any  intermediate  apartment,  conducted  his 
guest  through  several  into  the  great  dining  parlor,  wainscotted 
with  black  oak,  and  hung  round  with  the  pictures  of  his  an- 
cestry, where  a  table  was  set  forth  in  form  for  six  persons,  and 
an  old-fashioned  beaufet  displayed  all  the  ancient  and  massive 
plate  of  the  Bradwardine  family.  A  bell  was  now  heard  at 
the  head  of  the  avenue  ;  for  an  old  man,  who  acted  as  portei 
upon  gala  days,  had  caught  the  alarm  given  by  Waverley's  ar- 
rival, and,  repairing^  to  his  post,  announced  the  arrival  of  othei 
guests. 


WAVERLEV.  ig 

These,  as  the  Baron  assured  his  young  friend,  were  very 
estimable  persons.  "  There  was  the  young  Laird  of  Bahna- 
whapple,  a  Falconer.by  surname,  of  the  house  of  Glenfarquhar, 
given  right  much  to  field-sports — gandd  eqnis  et  canibus — but  a 
very  discreet  young  gentleman.  Then  there  was  the  Laird  of 
Killancureit,  who  had  dev^oted  his  leisure  /^/////tillage  and  agri- 
culture, and  boasted  himself  to  be  possessed  of  a  bull  of  match- 
less merit,  brought  from  the  county  of  Devon  (the  Damnonia 
of  the  Romans,  if  we  can  trust  Robert  of  Cirencester).  He 
is,  as  ye  may  well  suppose  from  such  a  tendency,  but  of  yeo- 
man extraction — servabit  odorcm  testa  din — and  I  believe,  be- 
tween ourselves,  his  grandsire  was  from  the  wrong  side  of 
the  Border — one  Bullsegg,  who  came  hither  as  a  steward,  or 
bailiff,  or  ground- officer,  something  in  that  department,  to  the 
last  Girnigo  of  Killancureit,  who  died  of  an  atrophy.  After 
his  master's  death,  sir, — ye  would  hardly  believe  such  a  scandal, 
■ — but  this  Bullsegg,  being  portly  and  comely  of  aspect,  inter- 
married with  the  lady  dowager,  who  was  young  and  amorous, 
and  possessed  himself  of  the  estate,  which  devolved  on  this 
unhappy  woman  by  a  settlement  of  her  umwhile  husband,  in 
direct  contravention  of  an  unrecorded  taillie,  and  to  the  preju- 
dice of  the  disponer's  own  flesh  and  blood,  in  the  person  of 
iis  natural  heir  and  seventh  cousin,  Girnigo  of  Tipperhewit, 
whose  family  was  so  reduced  by  the  ensuing  law-suit,  that  his 
representative  is  now  serving  as  a  private  gentleman-sentinel 
in  the  Highland  Black  Watch.  But  this  gentleman,  Mr.  Bull- 
segg of  Killancureit  that  now  is,  has  good  blood  in  his  veins  by 
the  mother  and  grandmother,  who  were  both  of  the  family  of 
Pickletillim,  and  he  is  well  liked  and  looked  upon,  and  knows 
his  own  place.  And  God  forbid,  Captain  VVaverley,  that  we 
of  irreproachable  lineage  should  exult  over  him,  when  it  may 
be,  that  in  the  eighth,  ninth,  or  tenth  generation,  his  progeny 
may  rank  in  a  manner,  with  the  old  gentry  of  the  countr}\ 
Rank  and  ancestry,  sir,  should  be  the  last  words  in  the  mouths 
of  us  of  unblemished  race — vix  ca  7iostra  voco,  as  Naso  saith. 
•^There  is,  besides,  a  clergyman  of  the  true  (though  suffering,) 
episcopal  church  of  Scotland.  He  was  a  confessor  in  her 
cause  after  the  year  17 15,  when  a  vvhiggish  mob  destroyed  his 
meeting-house,  tore  his  surplice,  and  plundered  his  dwelling- 
house  of  four  silver  spoons,  intromitting  also  with  his  mart  and 
his  meal-ark,  and  with  two  barrels,  one  of  single,  and  one  of 
double  ale,  besides  three  bottles  of  brandy."  My  Baron- 
Baillie  and  doer,  Mr.  Duncan  Macwheeble,  is  the  fourth  on  our 
list.     There  is  a  question,  owins  to  the  incertitude  of  ancient 


yo  tVAVERLEV. 

orthography,  wliether  he  belongs  to  the  clan  of  Wheedle  or  of 
Quibble,  but  both  have  produced  persons  eminent  in  the  law."— • 

As  such  he  desoribed  them  by  person  and  name, 
They  enter'd,  and  dinner  was  served  as  they  came. 


CHAPTER  ELEVENTH. 

THE    BANQUET. 


The  entertainment  was  ample,  and  handsome  according  to 
the  Scotch  ideas  of  the  period,  and  the  guests  did  great  honor 
to  it.  The  Baron  eat  like  a  famished  soldier,  the  Laird  of 
Balmawhapple  like  a  sportsman,  Bullsegg  of  Killancureit  like 
a  farmer,  Waverley  himself  like  a  traveller,  and  Baillie  Mac- 
wheeble  like  all  four  together  ;  though,  either  out  of  more  re- 
spect, or  in  order  to  preserve  that  proper  declination  of  person 
which  showed  a  sense  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  his  patron, 
he  sat  upon  the  edge  of  his  chair,  placed  at  three  feet  distance 
from  the  table,  and  achieved  a  communication  with  his  plate 
by  projecting  his  person  towards  it  in  a  line  which  obliqued 
from  the  bottom  of  his  spine,  so  that  the  person  who  sat  op- 
posite to  him  could  only  see  the  foretop  of  his  riding  periwig. 

This  stooping  position  might  have  been  inconvenient  to 
another  person  ;  but  long  habit  made  it,  whether  seated  or 
walking,  perfectly  easy  to  the  worthy  Baillie.  In  the  latter 
posture,  it  occasioned,  no  doubt,  an  unseemly  projection  of  the 
person  towards  those  who  happened  to  walk  behind  ;  but  those 
being  at  all  times  his  inferiors  (for  Mr.  Macwheeble  was  very 
scrupulous  in  giving  place  to  all  others),  he  cared  very  little 
what  inference  of  contempt  or  slight  regard  they  might  derive 
from  the  circumstance.  Hence,  when  he  waddled  across  the 
court  to  and  from  his  old  gray  pony,  he  somewhat  resembled  a 
turnspit  walking  upon  its  hind  legs. 

The  nonjuring  clergyman  was  a  pensive  and  interesting  old 
man,  with  much  the  air  of  a  sufferer  for  conscience'  sake.  He 
was  one  of  those. 

Who,  undeprived,  their  benefice  forsook. 

For  this  whim,  when  the  Baron  was  out  of  hearing,  the  Baillie 
used  sometimes  gently  to  rally  Mr.  Rubrick,  upbraiding  him 
with  the  nicety  of  his  scruples.  Indeed,  it  must  be  owned, 
that  he  himself,  though  at  heart  a  keen  partisan  of  the  exiled 


WAVERLEY.  yi 

family,  had  kept  pretty  fair  with  all  the  different  turns  of  state 
in  his  time  ;  so  that  Davie  Gellatley  once  described  him  as  a 
particularly  good  man,  who  had  a  very  quiet  and  peaceful 
conscience,  that  fiever  did  /lijn  any  harm. 

When  the  dinner  was  removed,  the  Baron  announced  the 
health  of  the  king,  politely  leaving  to  the  consciences  of  his 
guests  to  drink  to  the  sovereign  de  facto  or  de  Jure,  as  their 
politics  inclined.  The  conversation  now  became  general  ;  and, 
shortly  afterwards,  Miss  Bradwardine,  who  had  done  the 
honors  with  natural  grace  and  simplicity,  retired,  and  was 
soon  followed  by  the  clergyman.  Among  the  rest  of  the  party, 
the  wine,  which  fully  justified  the  encomiums  of  the  land- 
lord, flowed  freely  round,  although  Waverley,  with  some 
difhculty  obtained  the  privilege  of  sometimes  neglecting  the 
glass.  At  length,  as  the  evening  grew  more  late,  the  Baron 
made  a  private  signal  to  Mr.  Saunders  Saunderson,  or, 
as  he  facetiously  denominated  him,  Alexander  ab  Alexandra, 
who  left  the  room  with  a  nod,  and  soon  after  returned,  his 
grave  countenance  mantling  with  a  solemn  and  mysterious 
smile,  and  placed  before  his  master  a  small  oaken  casket, 
mounted  with  brass  ornaments  of  curious  form.  The  Baron, 
drawing  out  a  private  key,  unlocked  the  casket,  raised  the  lid, 
and  produced  a  golden  goblet  of  a  singular  and  antique  ap- 
pearance, moulded  into  the  shape  of  a  rampant  bear,  which 
the  owner  regarded  with  a  look  of  mingled  reverence,  pride, 
and  delight,  that  irresistibly  reminded  Waverley  of  Ben  Jonson's 
Tom  Otter,  with  his  Bull,  Horse,  and  Dog,  as  that  wag  wittily 
denominated  his  chief  carousing  cups.  But  Mr.  Bradwardine, 
turning  towards  him  with  complacency,  requested  him  to  ob- 
serve this  curious  relrque  of  the  olden  time. 

"  It  represents,"  he  said,  "  the  chosen  crest  of  our  family, 
a  bear,  as  ye  observe,  and  rampant ;  because  a  good  herald 
will  depict  every  animal  in  its  noblest  posture  ;  as  a  horse 
salient,  a  grayhound  currant,  and,  as  may  be  inferred,  a  raven- 
ous animal  in  aciu  ferociori,  or  in  a  voracious,  lacerating,  and 
devouring  posture.  Now,  sir,  we  hold  this  most  honorable 
achievement  by  the  wappen-brief,  or  concession  of  arms  of 
Frederick  Red-beard,  Emperor  of  Germany,  to  my  predecessor, 
Godmund  Bradwardine,  it  being  the  crest  of  a  gigantic  Dane, 
whom  he  slew  in  the  lists  in  the  Holy  Land,  on  a  quarrel  touch- 
ing the  chastity  of  the  emperor's  spouse  or  daughter,  tradition 
saith  not  precisely  which  ;  and  thus,  as  Virgiiius  hath  it— 

Mutemus  clypeos.  Danaumaue  insignia  nobis 
Aptemus. 


j2  U'AJ-ERLEY. 

Then  for  the  cup,  Captain  Waverley,  it  was  wrought  by  the 
command  of  Saint  Duthac,  Abbot  of  Aberbrothock,  for  behoof 
of  another  baron  of  the  house  of  Uradwardine,  who  had  val- 
iantly defended  the  patrimony  of  that  monastery  against  certain 
encroaching  nobles.  It  is  properly  termed  the  Blessed  Bear  of 
Bradwardine  (though  old  Dr.  Doubleit  used  jocosely  to  call  it 
Ursa  Major),  and  was  supioosed,  in  old  and  catholic  times,  to 
be  invested  with  certain  properties  of  a  mystical  and  super- 
natural quality.  And  though  I  give  not  in  to  such  ani/ia,  it  is 
certain  it  has  always  been  esteemed  a  solemn  standard  cup 
and  heirloom  of  our  house  ;  nor  is  it  ever  used  but  upon  sea- 
sons of  high  festival,  and  such  I  hold  to  be  the  arrival  of  the 
heir  of  Sir  Everard  under  my  roof  ;  and  I  devote  this  draught 
to  the  health  and  prosperity  of  the  ancient  and  highly-to-be- 
honored  house  of  Waverley." 

During  this  long  harangue,  he  carefully  decanted  a  cob- 
webbed  bottle  of  claret  into  the  goblet,  which  held  nearly  an 
English  pint  ;  and,  at  the  conclusion,  delivering  the  bottle  to 
the  butler,  to  be  held  carefully  in  the  same  angle  with  the 
horizon,  he  devoutly  quaffed  off  the  contents  of  the  Blessed 
Bear  of  Bradwardine. 

Edward,  with  horror  and  alarm,  beheld  the  animal  making 
his  rounds,  and  thought  with  great  anxiety  upon  the  appropriate, 
motto,  "  Beware  the  Bear  ; "  but,  at  the  same  time,  plainly 
foresaw,  that,  as  none  of  the  guests  scrupled  to  do  him  this  ex- 
traordinary honor,  a  refusal  on  his  part  to  pledge  their  cour- 
tesy would  be  extremely  ill  received.  Resolving,  therefore, 
to  submit  to  this  last  piece  of  tyranny,  and  then  to  quit  the 
table,  if  possible,  and  confiding  in  the  strength  of  his  constitu- 
tion, he  did  justice  to  the  company  in  the  contents  of  the 
Blessed  Bear,  and  felt  less  inconvenience  from  the  draught 
than  he  could  possibly  have  expected.  The  others,  whose 
Ume  had  been  more  actively  employed,  began  to  show  symp- 
toms of  innovation, — "  the  good  wine  did  its  good  office."  '■" 
The  frost  of  etiquette,  and  pride  of  birth,  began  to  give  way 
before  the  genial  blessings  of  this  benign  constellation,  and  the 
formal  appellatives  with  which  the  three  dignitaries  had  hitherto 
addressed  each  other,  were  now  familiarly  abbreviated  into 
Tully,  Bally,  and  Killie.  When  a  few  rounds  had  passed,  the 
two  latter,  after  whispering  together,  craved  permission  (a  joy- 
ful hearing  for  Edward)  to  ask  the  grace-cup.  This,  after  some 
delay  was  at  length  produced,  and  Waverley  concluded  that  the 
orgies  of  Bacchus  were  terminated  for  the  evening.  He  was 
never  more  mistaken  in  his  life. 


WAVERLEY. 


73 


As  the  guests  had  left  their  horses  at  the  small  inn,  ot 
tkange-Zionse,  as  it  was  called,  of  the  village,  the  Baron  could 
not,  in  politeness,  avoid  walking  with  them  up  the  avenue,  and 
VVaverley,  from  the  same  motive,  and  to  enjoy,  after  this  fever- 
ish revel,  the  cool  summer  evening,  attended  the  party.  But 
when  they  arrived  at  Luckie  Macleary's  the  Lairds  of  Balma- 
whapple  and  Killancureit  declared  their  determination  to  ac- 
knowledge their  sense  of  the  hospitality  of  TuUy-Veolan,  by 
partaking,  with  their  entertainer  and  his  guest  Captain  Waver- 
ley,  what  they  technically  called  dfoc/i  an  doruis,  a  stirrup-cup, 
to  the  honor  of  the  Baron's  roof  tree.^** 

it  mast  be  noticed,  that  the  Baillie,  knowing  by  experience 
'.hat  the  day's  joviality,  which  had  been  hitherto  sustained  at 
che  expense  of  his  patron,  might  terminate  partly  at  his  own, 
had  mounted  his  spavined  gray  pony,  and  between  gayety  of 
heart,  and  alarm  for  being  hooked  into  a  reckoning,  spurred 
him  into  a  hobbling  canter  (a  trot  was  out  of  the  question), 
and  had  already  cleared  the  village.  The  others  entered  the 
change-house  leading  Edward  in  unresisting  submission  ;  for 
his  landlord  whispered  hiin,  that  to  demur  to  such  an  overture 
would  be  construed  into  a  high  misdemeanor  against  the  leges 
conviviiilc's,  or  regulations  of  genial  compotation.  Widow  Mac- 
leary  seemed  to  have  expected  this  visit,  as  well  she  might,  for 
it  was  the  usual  consummation  of  merry  bouts,  not  only  at  Tully- 
Veolan,  but  at  most  other  gentlemen's  houses  in  Scotland,  Sixty 
Years  Since.  The  guests  thereby  at  once  acquitted  themselves 
of  their  burden  of  gratitude  for  their  entertainer's  kindness, 
encouraged  the  trade  of  his  change-house,  did  honor  to  the 
place  which  afforded  harbor  to  their  horses,  and  indemnified 
themselves  for  the  previous  restraints  imposed  by  private  hos- 
pitality, by  spending  what  Falstaff  calls  the  sweet  of  the  night, 
in  the  genial  license  of  a  tavern. 

Accordingly,  in  full  expectation  of  these  distinguished 
guests,  Luckie  Macleary  had  swept  her  house  for  the  first  time 
this  fortnight,  tempered  her  turf-fire  to  such  a  heat  as  the  sea- 
son required  in  her  damp  hovel  even  at  midsummer,  set  forth 
her  deal  table  newly  washed,  propped  its  lame  foot  with  a  frag- 
ment of  turf,  arranged  four  or  {\\^  stools  of  huge  and  clumsy 
form  upon  the  sites  which  best  suited  the  inequalities  of  her 
clay  floor  ;  and  having,  moreover,  put  on  her  clean  toy,  rokelay, 
and  scarlet  plaid,  gravely  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  company, 
in  full  hope  of  custom  and  profit.  When  they  were  seated 
under  the  sooty  rafters  of  Luckie  Macleaiy's  only  apartment, 
thickly  tapestried  with  cobwebs,  their  hostess,  who  had  alreadjf 


74 


WAVER  LEY. 


taken  her  cue  from  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple,  appeared  witi 
a  huge  pewter  measuring-pot,  containing  at  least  three  English 
quarts  familiarly  denominated  a  Tappit  Hen,  and  which,  in  the 
language  of  the  hostess,  reamed  (/'.  c.  mantled)  with  excellent 
claret  just  drawn  from  the  cask. 

It  was  soon  plain  that  what  crumbs  of  reason  the  Bear  had 
not  devoured,  were  to  be  picked  up  by  the  Hen  ;  but  the  con- 
fusion wliich  appeared  to  prevail  favored  Edward's  resolution 
to  evade  the  gayly  circling  glass.  The  others  began  to  talk 
thick  and  at  once,  each  performing  his  own  part  in  the  conver- 
sation, without  the  least  respect  to  his  neighbor.  The  Baron 
of  Bradwardine  sung  French  chansons-a-boirc,  and  spouted 
pieces  of  Latin  ;  Killancureit  talked,  in  a  steady  unalterable 
dull  key,  of  top-dressing  and  bottom-dressing,^"  and  year-olds, 
and  gimmers,  and  dinmonts,  and  stots,  and  runts,  and  kyloes, 
and  a  proposed  turnpike-act ;  while  Balmawhapple,  in  notes 
exalted  above  both,  extolled  his  horse,  his  hawks,  and  a  gray- 
hound  called  Whistler.  In  the  middle  of  this  din,  the  Baron 
repeatedly  implored  silence  ;  and  when  at  length  the  instinct 
of  polite  discipline  so  far  prevailed,  that  for  a  moment  he  ob- 
tained it,  he  hastened  to  beseech  their  attention  "  unto  a  mili- 
tary ariette,  which  was  a  particular  favorite  of  the  Marechal 
Due  de  Berwick  ; "  then,  imitating,  as  well  as  he  could,  the 
manner  and  tone  of  a  French  musquetaire,  immediately  com- 
menced,— 

Mon  coeur  volage,  dit-elie, 

N'est  pas  pour  vous,  gargon  ; 
Mais  pour  un  homme  de  guerre^ 

Qui  a  barbe  au  menton. 

Lon,  Lon,  Laridoit 

Qui  porte  chapeau  \  plume, 

Soulier  k  rouge  talon, 
Que  joue  de  la  flute, 

Aussi  du  violon. 

Lon,  Lon,  Laridon. 

Balmawhapple  could  hold  no  longer,  but  broke  in  with  what 
he  called  a  d — d  good  song,  composed  by  Gibby  Gae- 
throughwi't,  the  piper  of  Cupar  ;  and  without  wasting  mora 
time  struck  up, — 

It's  up  Glenbarchan's  braes  I  gaed. 
And  o'er  the  bent  of  Killiebraid, 
And  mony  a  weary  cast  I  made, 
To  cuittle  the  mui  fowl's  tail" 

The  Baron,  whose  voice  was  drowned  in  the  louder  and  more 
obstreperous  strains  of  Balmawhapple,  now  dropped  the  con* 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


75 


petition,  but  continued  to  hum  Lon,  Lon,  Laridon,  and  to  re 
gard  the  successful  candidate  for  the  attention  of  the  company 
with  an  eye  of  disdain,  while  Balmawhapple  proceeded, — 

If  up  a  bonny  black-cock  shouM  spring, 
To  whistle  him  down  wi'  a  slug  in  his  wingj 
And  strap  him  on  to  my  luiizie  string, 
V\9hx  seldom  would  1  fail. 

After  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  recover  the  second  i'erse,  he 
sung  the  first  over  again  ;  and,  in  prosecution  of  his  triumph, 
declared  there  was  "  more  sense  in  that  than  in  all  the  dcrry- 
do7igs  of  France,  and  Fifeshire  to  the  boot  of  it."  The  Baron 
only  answered  with  a  long  pinch  of  snuff,  and  a  glance  of  in- 
finite contempt.  But  those  noble  allies,  the  Bear  and  the  Hen, 
had  emancipated  the  young  laird  from  the  habitual  reverence 
jn  which  he  held  Bradwardine  at  other  times.  He  pronounced 
the  claret  shilpit,  and  demanded  brandy  with  great  vociferation. 
It  was  brought ;  and  now  the  Demon  of  Politics  envied  even 
the  harmony  arising  from  this  Dutch  concert,  merely  because 
there  was  not  a  wrathful  note  in  the  strange  compound  of 
sounds  which  it  produced.  Inspired  by  her,  the  Laird  of  Bal- 
mawhapple,  now  superior  to  the  nods  and  winks  with  which 
the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  in  delicacy  to  Edward,  had  hitherto 
checked  his  entering  upon  political  discussion,  demanded  a 
bumper  with  the  lungs  of  a  Stentor,  "  to  the  little  gentleman 
in  black  velvet  who  did  such  service  in  1702,  and  may  the 
white  horse  break  his  neck  over  a  mound  of  his  making  !  " 

Edward  was  not  at  that  moment  clear-headed  enough  to 
remember  that  King  William's  fall,  which  occasioned  his  death, 
was  said  to  be  owing  to  his  horse  stumbling  at  a  mole-hill ;  yet 
felt  inclined  to  take  umbrage  at  a  toast,  which  seemed,  from 
the  glance  of  Balmawhapple's  eye,  to  have  a  peculiar  and  un- 
civil reference  to  the  government  which  he  served.  But,  ere 
he  could  interfere,  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  had  taken  up 
the  quarrel.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  whatever  my  sentiments,  taJiquam 
privaius,  may  be  in  such  matters,  I  shall  not  tamely  endure 
your  saying  anything  that  may  impinge  upon  the  honorable 
feelings  of  a  gentleman  under  my  roof.  Sir,  if  you  have  no 
respect  for  the  laws  of  urbanity,  do  ye  not  respect  the  military 
oath,  the  sacramentum  viilitare^  Dy  which  every  officer  is  bound 
to  the  standards  under  which  he  is  enrolled  ?  Look  at  Titus 
Livius,  what  he  says  of  those  Roman  soldiers  who  were  so  un- 
happy as  exucre  sacramentutn. — to  renounce  their  legionary  oath, 
but  you  are  ignorant,  sir,  alike  of  ancient  history  and  modem 
courtesy." 


f$  n^AVERLEY. 

"  Not  so  ignorant  as  ye  would  pronounce  me,"  roared  Bal- 
mawhapple.  "  I  ken  weel  that  you  mean  the  Solemn  League 
and  Covenant ;  but  if  all  the  whigs  in  hell  had  taken  the '' 

Here  the  Baron  and  Waverley  both  spoke  at  once,  tile 
former  calling  out,  "  Be  silent,  sir !  ye  not  only  show  your 
ignorance,  but  disgrace  your  native  countr;  before  a  stranger 
and  an  Englishman  ; "  and  Waverley,  s.::  »ht  same  moment,  en- 
treating Mr.  Bradwardine  to  permit  him  to  reply  to  an  affront 
which  seemed  levelled  at  him  personally.  But  the  Baron  was 
exalted  by  wine,  wrath,  and  scorn,  above  all  sublunary  consid- 
erations. 

"  I  crave  you  to  be  hushed,  Captain  Waverley  ;  you  are 
elsewhere,  peradventure,  siii  Juris, — foris-familiated,  that  is, 
and  entitled,  it  may  be,  to  think  and  resent  for  yourself;  but 
in  my  domain,  in  this  poor  Barony  of  Bradwardine,  and  under 
this  roof,  which  is  guasi  mine,  being  held  by  tacit  relocation  by 
a  tenant  at  will,  I  am  /;/  loco  parentis  to  you,  and  bound  to  see 
you  scathless. — And  for  you,  Mr.  Falconer,  of  Balmawhapple, 
I  warn  ye  let  me  see  no  more  aberrations  from  the  paths  of 
good  manners." 

"  And  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine,  of 
Bradwardine  and  Tully-Veolan,"  retorted  the  sportsman,  in 
huge  disdain,  "  that  I'll  make  a  moor-cock  of  the  man  that  re- 
fuses my  toast,  whether  it  be  a  crop-eared  English  ^^'hig  wi'  a 
black  ribbon  at  his  lug,  or  ane  wha  deserts  his  ain  friends  to 
claw  favor  wi'  the  rats  of  Hanover." 

In  an  instant  both  rapiers  were  brandished,  and  some  des- 
perate passes  exchanged.  Balmawhapple  was  young,  stout, 
and  active  ]  but  the  Baron,  infinitely  more  master  of  his  weapon, 
would,  like  Sir  Toby  Belch,  have  tickled  his  opponent  other 
gates  than  he  did,  had  he  not  been  under  the  influence  of 
Ursa  Major. 

Edward  rushed  forward  to  interfere  between  the  combat- 
ants, but  the  prostrate  bulk  of  the  Laird  of  Killancureit,  over 
which  he  stumbled,  intercepted  his  passage.  How  Killancureit 
happened  to  be  in  this  recumbent  posture  at  so  interesting  a 
moment,  was  never  accurately  known.  Some  thought  he  was 
about  to  ensconce  himself  under  the  table  ;  he  himself  alleged 
that  he  stumbled  in  the  act  of  lifting  a  joint-stool,  to  prevent 
mischief,  by  knocking  down  Balmawhapple.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
if  readier  aid  than  either  his  or  Waverley'shad  not  interposed, 
there  would  certainly  have  been  bloodshed.  But  the  well- 
known  clash  of  swords,  which  was  no  stranger  to  her  dwelling, 
aroused  Luckie  Macleary  as  she  sat  quietly  beyond  the  hallan, 


WAVER  LEV.  If 

or  earthen  partition  of  the  cottage,  with  eyes  employed  on  Boft* 

ton's  Crook  of  the  Lot,  while  her  ideas  were  engaged  in  sum- 
ming up  the  reckoning.  She  boldly  rushed  in,  with  the  shrill 
expostulation,  "  Wad  their  honors  slay  ane  another  there,  and 
bring  discredit  on  an  honest  widow-woman's  house,  when  there 
was  a'  the  lea-land  in  the  country  to  fight  upon  ?  "  a  remon- 
strance which  she  seconded  by  flinging  her  plaid  with  great 
dexterity  over  the  weapons  of  the  combatants.  The  servants 
by  this  time  rushed  in,  and  being,  by  great  chance,  tolerably 
sober,  separated  the  incensed  opponents,  with  the  assistance 
of  Edward  and  Killancureit.  The  latter  led  off  Balmawhapple, 
cursing,  swearing,  and  vowing  revenge  against  every  whig, 
presbyterian,  and  fanatic  in  England  and  Scotland,  from  John- 
o'-Groat's  to  the  Land's  End,  and  with  difficulty  got  him  to 
horse.  Our  hero,  with  the  assistance  of  Saunders  Saunderson, 
escorted  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  to  his  own  dwelling,  but 
could  not  prevail  upon  him  to  retire  to  bed  until  he  had  made 
a  long  and  learned  apology  for  the  events  of  the  evening,  of 
which,  however,  there  was  not  a  word  intelligible,  except  some- 
thing about  the  Centaurs  and  the  Lapithae. 


CHAPTER  TWELFTH. 

REPENTANCE,    AND    A    RECONCILIATION. 

Waverley  was  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  wine  excepting 
with  great  temperance.  He  slept  therefore  soundly  till  late  in 
the  succeeding  morning,  and  then  awakened  to  a  painful  recol- 
lection of  the  scene  of  the  preceding  evening.  He  had  received 
a  personal  affront, — he,  a  gentleman,  a  soldier,  and  a  Waver- 
ley. True,  the  person  who  offered  it  was  not,  at  the  time  it 
was  given,  possessed  of  the  moderate  share  of  sense  which 
nature  had  allotted  him ;  true  also,  in  resenting  this  insult,  he 
would  break  the  laws  of  Heaven,  as  well  as  of  his  country  , 
true,  in  doing  so,  he  might  take  the  life  of  a  young  man  who 
perhaps  respectably  discharged  the  social  duties,  and  render 
his  tamily  miserable  ;  or  he  might  lose  his  own  ; — no  pleasant 
alternative  even  to  the  bravest,  when  it  is  debated  coolly  and 
in  private. 

All  this  pressed  on  his  mind  ;  yet  the  original  statement  re* 


■g  fVA  VERLEY. 

curred  with  the  same  irresistible  force.  He  had  received  a 
personal  insult ;  he  was  of  the  house  of  Waverley  ;  and  he  bore 
a  commission.  There  was  no  alternative  ;  and  he  descended 
to  the  breakfast  parlor  with  the  intention  of  taking  leave  of  the 
family,  and  writing  to  one  of  his  brother  officers  to  meet  hirn 
at  the  inn  mid-way  between  TuUy-Veolan  and  the  town  where 
they  were  quartered,  in  order  that  he  might  convey  such  a  mes- 
sage to  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple  as  the  circumstances 
seemed  to  demand.  He  found  Miss  Bradwardine  presiding 
over  the  tea  and  coffee,  the  table  loaded  with  warm  bread,  both 
of  flour,  oatmeal,  and  barley-meal,  in  the  shape  of  loaves,  cakes, 
biscuits,  and  other  varieties,  together  with  eggs,  reindeer  ham, 
mutton  and  beef  ditto,  smoked  salmon,  marmalade,  and  all 
other  delicacies  which  induced  even  Johnson  himself  to  extol 
the  luxury  of  a  Scotch  breakfast  above  that  of  all  other  coun- 
tries. A  mess  of  oatmeal  porridge,  flanked  by  a  silver  jug, 
which  held  an  equal  mixture  of  cream  and  butter-milk,  was 
placed  for  the  Baron's  share  of  this  repast ;  but  Rose  observed 
he  had  walked  out  early  in  the  morning,  after  giving  orders 
that  his  guest  should  not  be  disturbed, 

Waverley  sat  down  almost  in  silence,  and  with  an  air  of 
absence  and  abstraction,  which  could  not  give  Miss  Bradwar- 
dine a  favorable  opinion  of  his  talents  for  conversation.  He 
answered  at  random  one  or  two  observ^ations  which  she  ven- 
tured to  make  upon  ordinary  topics  ;  so  that  feeling  herself 
almost  repulsed  in  her  efforts  at  entertaining  him,  and  secretly 
wondering  that  a  scarlet  coat  should  cover  no  better  breeding, 
she  left  him  to  his  mental  amusement  of  cursing  Dr.  Doubleit's 
favorite  constellation  of  Ursa  Major,  as  the  cause  of  all  the 
mischief  which  had  already  happened,  and  was  likely  to  ensue. 
At  once  he  started,  and  his  color  heightened,  as,  looking  toward 
the  window,  he  beheld  the  Baron  and  young  Balmawhapple 
pass  arm  in  arm,  apparently  in  deep  conversation ;  and  he 
hastily  asked,  "  Did  Mr.  Falconer  sleep  here  last  night .'' " 
Rose,  not  much  pleased  with  the  abruptness  of  the  first  ques- 
tion which  the  young  stranger  had  addressed  to  her,  answered 
dryly  in  the  negative,  and  the  conversation  again  sunk  into 
silence. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Saunderson  appeared,  with  a  message 
from  his  master,  requesting  to  speak  with  Captain  Waverley  in 
another  apartment.  With  a  heart  which  beat  a  little  quicker, 
not  indeed  from  fear,  but  from  uncertainty  and  anxiety,  Ed- 
ward obeyed  the  summons.  He  found  the  two  gentlemen 
Standing  together,  an  air  of  complacent  dignity  on  the  brow  of 


WAVERLEY.  79 

the  Baron,  while  something  like  sullenness  or  shame,  or  both, 
blanked  the  bold  visage  of  Balmawhapple.  The  former  slipped 
his  arm  through  that  of  the  latter  and  thus  seeming  to  walk 
with  him,  while  in  reality  he  led  him,  advanced  to  meet  Wa- 
verley,  and,  stopping  in  the  midst  of  the  apartment,  made 
in  great  state  the  following  oration  :  "  Captain  Waverley — my 
young  and  esteemed  friend,  Mr.  Falconer  of  Balmawhapple, 
has  craved  of  my  age  and  experience,  as  of  one  not  wholly  un- 
skilled in  the  dependencies  and  punctilios  of  the  duello  or 
monomachia,  to  be  his  interlocutor  in  expressing  to  you  the  re- 
gret with  which  he  calls  to  remembrance  certain  passages  of 
our  symposion  last  night,  which  could  not  but  be  highly  dis- 
pleasing to  you,  as  serving  for  the  time  under  this  present  ex- 
isting government.  He  craves  you,  sir,  to  drown  in  oblivion 
the  memory  of  such  solecisms  against  the  laws  of  politeness, 
as  being  what  his  better  reason  disavows,  and  to  receive  the 
hand  which  he  offers  you  in  amity  ;  and  I  must  needs  assure 
you  that  nothing  less  than  a  sense  of  being  dans  son  tort,  as  a 
gallant  French  chevalier,  Mons.  Le  Bretailleur,  once  said  to 
me  on  such  a«  occasion,  and  an  opinion  also  of  your  peculiar 
merit,  could  have  extorted  such  concessions  ;  for  he  and  all  his 
family  are,  and  have  been,  time  out  of  mind,  mavortia  pectora^ 
as  Buchanan  saith,  a  bold  and  warlike  sept,  or  people." 

Edward  immediately,  and  with  natural  politeness,  accepted 
the  hand  which  Balmawhapple,  or  rather  the  Baron  in  his  char- 
acter of  mediator,  extended  towards  him.  "  It  was  impossible," 
he  said,  "for  him  to  remember  what  a  gentleman  expressed  his 
wish  he  had  not  uttered  ;  and  he  willingly  imputed  what  had 
passed  to  the  exuberant  festivity  of  the  day." 

"  That  is  very  handsomely  said,"  answered  the  Baron  ;  "for 
undoubtedly,  if  a  man  be  ebrins,  or  intoxicated, — an  incident 
which  on  solemn  and  festive  occasions,  may  and  will  take  place 
in  the  life  of  a  man  of  honor ;  and  if  the  same  gentleman,  being 
fresh  and  sober,  recants  the  contumelies  which  he  hath  spoken 
in  his  liquor,  it  musit  be  held  vinum  locutiim  est ;  the  words 
cease  to  be  his  own.  Yet  would  I  not  find  this  exculpation  rele- 
vant in  the  case  of  one  who  was  ebriosns,  or  a  habitual  drunkard  ; 
because,  if  such  a  person  choose  to  pass  the  greater  part  of  his 
time  in  the  predicament  of  intoxication,  he  hath  no  title  to  be 
exeemed  from  the  obligations  of  the  code  of  politeness,  but 
should  learn  to  deport  himself  peaceably  and  courteously  when 
under  influence  of  the  vinous  stimulus.  And  now  let  us  proceed 
to  breakfast,  and  think  no  more  of  this  daft  business." 

I  roust  confess,  whatever  inference  may  be  drawn  from  tbtf 


8o  WAV&RLEV: 

circumstance,  that  Edward,  after  so  satisfactory  an  explanation, 
did  much  greater  honor  to  the  deUcacies  of  Miss  Eradwardine's 
breakfast-table  tlian  his  commencement  had  promised.  Balma- 
whapple,  on  the  conti^ry,  seemed  embarrassed  and  dejected  ; 
and  \\'averley  now,  for  the  first  time,  observed  that  his  arm  was 
in  a  sling,  which  seemed  to  account  for  the  awkward  and  em- 
barrassed manner  with  which  he  had  presented  his  liand.  To 
a  question  from  Miss  Bradwardine,  he  muttered,  in  answer, 
something  about  his  horse  having  fallen  ;  and,  seeming  desirous 
to  escape  both  from  the  subject  and  the  company,  he  arose  as 
soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  made  his  bow  to  the  party,  and  de- 
clining the  Baron's  invitation  to  tarrj^  till  after  dinner,  mounted 
his  horse  and  returned  to  his  own  home. 

Waverley  now  announced  his  purpose  of  leaving  Tully-Veo- 
lan  eaily  enough  after  dinner  to  gain  the  stage  at  which  he 
meant  to  sleep ;  but  the  unaffected  and  deep  mortification  with 
which  the  goodnatured  and  affectionate  old  gentleman  heard 
the  proposal,  quite  deprived  him  of  courage  to  persist  in  it.  No 
sooner  had  he  gained  Waverley's  consent  to  lengthen  his  visit 
for  a  few  days,  than  he  labored  to  remove  the  grounds  upon 
which  he  conceived  he  had  meditated  a  more  early  retreat.  "  I 
would  not  have  you  opine,  Captain  Waverley,  that  I  am  by 
practice  or  precept  an  advocate  of  ebriety,  though  it  may  be 
that,  in  our  festivity  of  last  night,  some  of  our  friends,  if  not 
perchance  altogether  ebrii,  or  drunken,  w'ere,  to  say  the  least, 
ebrioli,  by  which  the  ancients  designed  those  who  were  fuddled, 
or,  as  your  English  vernacular  and  metaphorical  phrase  goes, 
half-seas-over.  Not  that  I  would  so  insinuate  respecting  you, 
Captain  Waverley,  who,  like  a  prudent  youth,  did  rather  abstain 
from  potation ;  nor  can  it  be  truly  said  of  myself,  who,  having 
assisted  at  the  tables  of  many  great  generals  and  marechals  at 
their  solemn  carousals,  have  the  art  to  carr}^  my  wine  discreetly, 
and  did  not,  during  the  whole  evening,  as  ye  must  have  doubt- 
'ess  obser\'ed,  exceed  the  bounds  of  a  modest  hilarity." 

There  was  no  refusing  assent  to  a  proposition  so  decidedly 
laid  down  by  him,  who  undoubtedly  was  the  best  judge  ;  al- 
though, had  Edward  formed  his  opinion  from  his  own  recollec- 
tions, he  would  have  pronounced  that  the  Baron  was  not  only 
ebriolus,  but  verging  to  become  ebrius ;  or,  in  plain  English,  was 
incomparably  the  most  drunk  of  the  party,  except  perhaps  his 
antagonist,  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple.  However,  having  re> 
.^eived  the  expected,  or  ratlier  the  required,  compliment  on  his 
sobriety,  the  Baron  proceeded, —  "No,  sir,  though  I  am  myself 
of  a  strong  temperament,  I  abhor  ebriety,  and  detest  those  who 


WAVER  LEY.  8l 

swallow  wine  giila;  causa,  for  the  oblectation  of  the  gullet ;  albeit 
I  might  deprecate  the  law  of  Pittacus  of  Mitylene,  who  pun- 
ished doubly  a  crime  committed  under  the  influence  of  Liber 
Pater;  nor  would  I  utterly  accede  to  the  objurgation  of  the 
younger  Plinius,  in  the  fourteenth  book  of  his  '  Historia  Natura- 
lis.'  No,  sir,  I  distinguish,  I  discriminate,  and  approve  of  wine 
so  far  only  as  it  maketh  glad  the  face,  or,  in  the  language  of 
Flaccus,  recepto  amico.''' 

Thus  terminated  the  apology  which  the  Baron  of  Bradwar- 
dine  thought  it  necessary  to  make  for  the  superabundance  of 
his  hospitality;  and  it  may  be  easily  believed  that  he  was 
neither  interrupted  by  dissent,  nor  any  expression  of  incredu- 
lity. 

He  then  invited  his  guest  to  a  morning  ride,  and  ordered 
that  Davie  Gellatley  should  meet  them  at  the  det-n  path  with 
Ban  and  Buscar.  "  For,  until  the  shooting  season  commenced, 
I  would  willingly  show  you  some  sport;  and  we  may,  God  will- 
ing, meet  with  a  roe.  The  roe.  Captain  Waverley,  may  be 
hunted  at  all  times  alike  ;  for  never  being  in  what  is  0.2^0.6. pride 
of  grease,  he  is  also  never  out  of  season,  though  it  be  a  truth 
that  his  venison  is  not  equal  to  that  of  either  the  red  or  fallow 
deer.^^  But  he  will  serve  to  show  how  my  dogs  run  ;  and  there- 
fore they  shall  attend  us  with  Davie  Gellatley." 

Waverley  expressed  his  surprise  that  his  friend  Davie  was 
capable  of  such  trust ;  but  the  Baron  gave  him  to  understand 
that  this  poor  simpleton  was  neither  fatuous,  nee  natiiraliter 
idiota,  as  is  expressed  in  the  brieves  of  furiosity,  but  simply  a 
crackbrained  knave,  who  could  execute  very  well  any  commis- 
sion which  jumped  with  his  own  humor,  and  made  his  folly  a 
plea  for  avoiding  every  other.  "  He  has  made  an  interest  with 
us,"  continued  the  Baron,  "by  saving  Rose  from  the  great  dan- 
get  with  his  own  proper  peril  ;  and  the  roguish  loon  must  there- 
<^ore  eat  of  our  bread  and  drink  of  our  cup,  and  do  what  he  can, 
or  what  he  will ;  which,  if  the  suspicions  of  Saunderson  and 
the  Baillie  are  well  founded,  may  perchance  in  his  case  be  com- 
mensurate terms." 

Miss  Bradwardine  then  gave  Waverley  to  understand,  that 
this  poor  simpleton  was  doatingly  fond  of  music,  deeply  affected 
by  that  which  was  melancholy,  and  transported  into  extravagant 
gayety  by  light  and  lively  airs.  He  had  in  this  respect  a  pro- 
digious memory,  stored  with  miscellaneous  snatches  and  frag- 
ments of  all  tunes  and  songs,  whicli  he  sometimes  applied,  with 
considerable  address,  as  the  vehicles  of  remonstrance,  explannc 
tion,  or  satire.     Davie  was  mud;  n.ttnched  to  the  few  who  showed 


82  WAVER  LEY. 

him  kindness  ;  and  both  aware  of  any  slight  or  ill  usage  which 
he  happened  to  receive,  and  sufficiently  apt,  where  he  sav  op- 
portunity, to  revenge  it.  The  common  people,  who  often  judge 
hardly  of  each  other,  as  well  as  of  their  betters,  although  they 
had  expressed  great  compassion  for  the  poor  zVz/^^r^/^/ while  suf- 
fered to  wander  in  rags  about  the  village,  no  sooner  beheld  him 
decently  clothed,  provided  for,  and  even  a  sort  of  favorite,  than 
they  called  up  all  the  instances  of  sharpness  and  ingenuity,  in 
action  and  repartee,  which  his  annals  afforded,  and  charitably 
bottomed  thereupon  a  hypothesis,  that  David  Gellatley  was  no 
farther  fool  than  was  necessary  to  avoid  hard  labor.  This 
opinion  was  not  better  founded  than  that  of  the  Negroes  who, 
from  the  acute  and  mischievous  pranks  of  the  monkeys,  suppose 
that  they  have  the  gift  of  speech,  and  only  suppress  their  powers 
of  elocution  to  escape  being  set  to  work.  But  the  hypothesis 
was  entirely  imaginary  ;  David  Gellatley  was  in  good  earnest 
the  half-crazed  simpleton  which  he  appeared,  and  was  incapable 
of  any  constant  and  steady  exertion.  He  had  just  so  much 
solidity  as  kept  on  the  windy  side  of  insanity  ;  so  much  wild  wit 
as  saved  him  from  the  imputation  of  idiocy ;  some  dexterity  in 
field  sports  (in  which  we  have  known  as  great  fools  excel),  great 
kindness  and  humanity  in  the  treatment  of  animals  intrusted  to 
him,  warm  affections,  a  prodigious  memory,  and  an  ear  for 
music. 

The  stamping  of  horses  was  now  heard  in  the  court,  and 
Davie's  voice  singing  to  the  two  large  deer  greyhounds. 

Hie  away,  hie  away, 

Over  bank  and  over  brae, 

Where  the  copsewood  is  the  greenest, 

Where  the  fountains  glisten  sheenest, 

Where  the  lady-fern  grows  strongest, 

Where  the  morning  dew  lies  longest, 

Where  the  black-cock  sweetest  sips  it, 

Where  the  fairy  latest  trips  it: 

Hie  to  haunts  right  seldom  seen. 

Lovely,  lonesome,  cool,  and  green, 

Over  bank  and  over  brae, 

Hie  away,  hie  away.  v 

"  Do  the  verses  he  sings,"  asked  Waverley,  "  belong  to  old 
Scottish  poetry,  Miss  Bradwardine  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,"  she  replied.  "  This  poor  creature  had  a 
brother,  and  Heaven,  as  if  to  compensate  to  the  family  Davie's 
deficiencies,  had  given  him  what  the  hamlet  thought  uncommon 
talents.  An  uncle  contrived  to  educate  him  for  the  Scottish 
kirk,  but  he  could  not  get  preferment  because  he  came  from 
our  ground.     He  returned  from  college  hopeless  and  broken' 


Hearted,  and  fell  into  a  decline.  My  father  supported  him  till 
his  death,  which  happened  before  he  was  nineteen.  He  played 
beautifully  on  the  flute,  and  was  supposed  to  have  a  great  turn 
for  poetry.  He  was  affectionate  and  compassionate  to  his 
brother, who  followed  him  like  his  shadow,  and  we  think  that  frooi 
him  Davie  gathered  many  fragments  of  songs  and  music  unlik« 
those  of  this  country.  But  if  we  ask  him  where  he  got  such  ? 
fragment  as  he  is  now  singing,  he  either  answers  with  wild  ano 
long  fits  of  laughter,  or  else  breaks  into  tears  of  lamentation  i 
but  was  never  heard  to  give  any  explanation  or  to  mention  his 
brother's  name  since  his  death." 

"  Surely,"  said  Edward,  who  was  readily  interested  by  a  tale 
bordering  on  the  romantic,  "  surely  more  might  be  learned  bj 
more  particular  inquiry." 

*'  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Rose,  "  but  my  father  will  not  pep 
mit  any  one  to  practice  on  his  feelings  on  this  subject." 

By  this  time  the  Baron,  with  the  help  of  Mr.  Saunderson, 
had  indued  a  pair  of  jack-boots  of  large  dimensions,  and  now 
Invited  our  hero  to  follow  him  as  he  stalked  clattering  down  thtj 
ample  staircase,  tapping  each  huge  balustrade  as  he  passed 
with  the  butt  of  his  massive  horse-whip,  and  humming,  with  the 
air  of  a  chasseur  of  Louis  Quatorze, 

Pour  la  chasse  ordonn^e  il  faut  preparer  tout^ 
Ho  la  ho  I  Vite  I  vite  debout 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH. 

A  MORE  RATIONAL  DAY  THAN  THE  LAST. 

The  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  mounted  on  an  active  and  well 
managed  horse,  and  seated  on  a  demi-pique  saddle,  with  deep 
housings  to  agree  with  his  livery,  was  no  bad  representative  ot 
the  old  school.  His  light-colored  embroidered  coat,  and  su- 
perbly barred  waistcoat,  his  brigadier  wig,  surmounted  by  a 
small  gold  laced  cocked-hat,  completed  his  personal  costume, 
but  he  was  attended  by  ^wo  well-mounted  servants  on  horse- 
back armed  with  holster-pistols. 

In  this  guise  he  ambled  forth  over  hill  and  valley,  the  ad 
miration  of  every  farm-yard  which  they  passed  in  their  prog* 
ress  ;  till,  "  low  down  in  a  grassy  vale,"  they  found  David  Gel- 
latley  leading  two  very  tall  deer  grayhounds,  and  presiding 


^  WAVER LE  I. 

over  half-a-dozen  curs,  and  about  as  niar.y  bare-legged  and 
bare-headed  boys,  who,  to  procure  the  chosen  distinction  of  at- 
tending on  the  chase,  had  not  failed  to  tickle  his  ears  with  th« 
dulcet  appellation  of  Maister  GeUatley,  though  probably  all  and 
each  had  hooted  him  on  former  occasions  in  the  character  ol 
daft  Davie.  But  this  is  no  uncommon  strain  of  flattery  to  persons 
in  office,  nor  altogether  confined  to  the  bare-legged  villagers  of 
Tully-Veolan ;  it  was  in  fashion  Sixty  Years  Since,  is  now,  and 
will  be  six  hundre^^  years  hence,  if  this  admirable  compound  of 
folly  and  knavery,  called  the  world,  shall  be  then  in  existence. 

These  gillie-'wet-foots^  as  they  were  called,  were  destined  to 
beat  the  bushes,  which  they  performed  with  so  much  success, 
that,  after  half  an  hour's  search,  a  roe  was  started,  coursed, 
and  killed ;  the  Baron  following  on  his  white  horse,  like  Earl 
Percy  of  yore,  and  magnanimously  flaying  and  embowelling  the 
slain  animal  (which,  he  observed,  was  called  by  the  French 
chasseurs,  fairs  la  curee)  with  his  own  l«aronial  couicau  de 
(hasse.  After  this  ceremony,  he  conducts. .  his  guest  home- 
ward by  a  pleasant  and  circuitous  route,  commanding  an  ex- 
tensive prospect  of  different  villages  and  houses,  to  each  of 
which  Mr.  Bradwardine  attached  some  anecdote  of  history  or 
genealogy,  told  in  language  whimsical  from  prejudice  and 
pedantry,  but  often  respectable  for  th2  good  sense  and  honor- 
able feelings  which  his  narratives  displayed,  and  almost  always 
curious,  if  not  valuable,  for  the  information  they  contained. 

The  truth  is,  the  ride  seemed  agreeable  to  both  gentlemen, 
because  they  found  amusement  in  each  other's  conversation, 
although  their  characters  and  habits  of  thinking  were  in  many 
respects  totally  opposite.  Edward,  we  have  informed  the 
reader,  w^as  warm  in  his  feelings,  wild  and  romantic  in  his  ideas 
and  in  his  taste  of  reading,  with  a  strong  disposition  towards 
poetry.  Mr.  "Sradwardine  was  the  reverse  of  all  this,  and 
piqued  himself  upon  stalking  through  life  with  the  same  up- 
right, starched,  stoical  gravity  which  distinguished  his  evening 
promenade  upon  the  terrace  of  Tully-Veolan,  where  for  hours 
together — the  very  model  of  old  Hardyknute— 

Stately  stepp'd  he  east  the  wa', 
And  stately  stepp'd  he  west 

As  for  literature,  he  read  the  classic  poets,  to  be  sure,  and 
the  Epithalamium  of  a  Georgius  Buchanan,  and  Arthur  John- 
stone's Psalms  of  a  Sunday  ;  and  the  Deliciae  Poetarum  Scot* 
orum,  and  Sir  David  Lindsay's  Works,  and  Barbour's  Bruce, 
and  Blind  Harry's  Wallace,  and  the  Gentle  Shepherd,  and  the 


WAVERLEY.  gj 

Cherry  and  the  Slae.  But  though  he  thus  far  sacrificed  his 
time  to  the  Muses,  he  would,  if  the  truth  must  be  spoken,  have 
been  much  better  pleased  had  the  pious  or  sapient  apothegms, 
as  well  as  the  historical  narratives  which  these  various  works 
contained,  been  presented  to  him  in  the  form  of  simple  prose. 
And  he  sometimes  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  contempt 
of  the  "  vain  and  unprofitable  art  of  poem-making,"  in  which, 
he  said,  "  the  only  one  who  had  excelled  in  his  time  was  Allan 
Ramsay,  the  periwig-maker."  ^^ 

But  although  Edward  and  he  differed  toto  ccelo,  as  the  Baron 
would  have  said,  upon  this  subject,  yet  they  met  upon  history 
as  on  a  neutral  ground,  In  which  each  claimed  an  interest. 
The  Baron,  indeed,  only  cumbered  his  memory  with  matters  of 
fact — the  cold,  dry,  hard  outlines  which  historj'  delineates. 
Edward,  on  the  contrary,  loved  to  fill  up  and  rount^  the  sketch 
with  the  coloring  of  a  warm  and  vivid  imaginatit)n,  which  gives 
light  and  life  to  the  actors  and  speakers  in  the  drama  of  past 
ages.  Yet  with  tastes  so  opposite,  they  contributed  greatly  to 
each  other's  amusement.  Mr.  Bradwardine's  minute  narratives 
and  powerful  memory  supplied  to  Waverley  fresh  subjects  of 
the  kind  upon  which  his  fancy  loved  to  labor,  and  opened  to 
him  a  new  mine  of  incident  and  of  character.  And  he  repaid  the 
pleasure  thus  communicated,  by  an  earnest  attention,  valuable 
to  all  story-tellers,  more  especially  to  the  Baron,  who  felt  his 
habits  of  self-respect  flattered  by  it;  and  sometimes  also  by 
reciprocal  communications,  which  interested  Mr.  Bradwardine, 
as  confirming  or  illustrating  his  own  favorite  anecdotes.  Be 
sides,  Mr.  Bradwardine  loved  to  talk  of  the  scenes  of  his  youth, 
which  had  been  spent  in  camps  and  foreign  lands,  and  had 
many  interesting  particulars  to  tell  of  the  generals  under  whom 
he  had  served,  and  the  actions  he  had  witnessed. 

Both  parties  returned  to  TuUy-Veolan  in  great  good  humor 
with  each  other ;  Waverley,  desirous  of  studying  more  atten- 
tively what  he  considered  as  a  singular  and  interesting  charac- 
ter, gifted  with  a  memory  containing  a  curious  register  of  an- 
cient and  modern  anecdotes  ;  and  Bradwardine  disposed  to 
regard  Edward  as  puer  (or  rather  juvefiis)  ho7im  spei  et  magftcs 
indolis,  a  youth  devoid  of  that  petulant  volatility,  which  Is  im- 
patient of,  or  vilipends,  the  conversation  and  advice  of  his 
seniors,  from  which  he  predicted  great  things  of  his  future  suc- 
cess and  deportment  In  life.  There  was  no  other  guest  except 
Mr.  Rubrick,  whose  information  and  discourse,  as  a  clergyman 
and  a  scholar,  hawnonlzed  very  well  with  that  of  the  Baron  and 
his  guest. 


ge  WAVERLEY. 

Shortly  after  dinner,  the  Baron,  as  if  to  show  that  his  tem» 
perance  was  not  entirely  theoretical,  proposed  a  visit  to  Rose's 
apartment,  or,  as  he  termed  it,  her  Troisieme  Etage.  VVaverley 
was  accordingly  conducted  through  one  or  two  of  those  long 
awkward  passages  with  which  ancient  architects  studied  to 
puzzle  the  inhabitants  of  the  houses  which  they  planned,  at  the 
end  of  which  Mr.  Bradwardine  began  to  ascend,  by  two  steps 
at  once,  a  very  steep,  narrow,  and  winding  stair,  leaving  Mr. 
Rubrick  and  Waverley  to  follow  at  more  leisure,  while  he  should 
announce  their  approach  to  his  daughter. 

After  having  climbed  this  perpendicular  corkscrew  until  their 
brains  were  almost  giddy,  they  arrived  in  a  little  matted  lobby, 
which  served  as  an  anteroom  to  Rose's  sanctum  sanctorum,  and 
through  which  they  entered  her  parlor.  It  was  a  small,  but 
pleasant  apartment,  opening  to  the  south,  and  hung  with  tapes- 
try ;  adorned  besides  with  two  pictures,  one  of  her  mother,  in 
the  dress  of  a  shepherdess,  with  a  bell-hoop  ;  the  other  of  the 
Baron  in  his  tenth  year,  in  a  blue  coat,  embroidered  waistcoat, 
laced  hat,  and  bag-wig,  with  a  bow  in  his  hand.  Edward  could 
not  help  smiling  at  the  costume,  and  at  the  odd  resemblance 
between  the  round,  smooth,  red-cheeked,  staring  visage  in  the 
portrait,  and  a  gaunt,  bearded,  hollow-eyed,  swarthy-features, 
which  travelling,  fatigues  of  war,  and  advanced  age,  had  be- 
stowed on  the  original.  The  Baron  joined  in  the  laugh. 
**  Truly,"  he  said,  "  that  picture  was  a  woman's  fantasy  of  my 
good  mother's  (a  daughter  of  the  Laird  of  TuUiellum,  Captain 
Waverley ;  I  indicated  the  house  to  you  when  we  were  on  the 
top  of  the  Shinny-heuch  ;  it  was  burnt  by  the  Dutch  auxiliaries 
brought  in  by  the  government  in  1715);  I  never  sat  for  my 
pourtraicture  but  once  since  that  was  painted,  and  it  was  at  the 
special  and  reiterated  request  of  the  Marechal  Duke  of  Ber- 
wick." 

The  good  old  gentleman  did  not  mention  what  Mr.  Rubrick 
afterwards  told  Edward,  that  the  Duke  had  done  him  this  honor 
on  account  of  his  being  the  first  to  mount  the  breach  of  a  fort 
in  Savoy  during  the  memorable  campaign  of  1709,  and  his  hav- 
ing there  defended  himself  with  his  half-pike  for  nearly  ten 
minutes  before  any  support  reached  him.  To  do  the  Baron 
justice,  although  sufficiently  prone  to  dwell  upon,  and  even  to 
exaggerate  his  family  dignity  and  consequence,  he  was  too  much 
a  man  of  real  courage  ever  to  allude  to  such  personal  acts  o£ 
merit  as  he  had  himself  manifested. 

Miss  Rose  now  appeared  from  the  interior  room  of  her  apart- 
Bent,  to  welcome  her  father  and  his  friends.    The  little  labort 


W AVE  RLE  Y.  87 

jn  which  she  had  been  employed  obvio!isly  showed  a  natural 
taste,  which  required  only  cultivation.  Her  father  had  taught 
her  French  and  Italian,  and  a  few  of  the  ordinary  authors  in 
those  languages  ornamented  her  shelves.  He  had  endeavored 
also  to  be  her  preceptor  in  music  :  but  as  he  began  with  the 
more  abstruse  doctrines  of  the  science,  and  was  not  perhaps 
master  of  them  himself,  she  had  made  no  proficiency  farther 
than  to  be  able  to  accompany  her  voice  with  the  harpsichord  ; 
but  even  this  was  not  very  common  in  Scotland  at  that  period. 
To  make  amends,  she  sung  with  great  taste  and  feeling,  and 
with  a  respect  to  the  sense  of  what  she  uttered  that  might  be 
proposed  in  example  to  ladies  of  much  superior  musical  talent. 
Her  natural  good  sense  taught  her,  that  if,  as  we  are  assured 
by  high  authority,  music  be  "  married  to  immortal  verse,"  they 
are  very  often  divorced  by  the  performer  in  a  most  shameful 
manner.  It  was  perhaps  owing  to  this  sensibility  to  poetry, 
and  power  of  combining  its  expression  with  those  of  the  musi- 
cal notes,  that  her  singing  gave  more  pleasure  to  all  the  un- 
learned in  music,  and  even  to  many  of  the  learned,  than  could 
have  been  communicated  by  a  much  finer  voice  and  more  bril- 
liant execution,  unguided  by  the  same  delicacy  of  feeling. 

A  bartizan,  or  projecting  gallery,  before  the  windows  of  her 
parlor,  served  to  illustrate  another  of  Rose's  pursuits,  for  it  was 
crowded  with  flowers  of  different  kinds,  which  she  had  taken 
under  her  special  protection.  A  projecting  turret  gave  access 
to  tliis  Gothic  balcony,  which  commanded  a  most  beautiful 
prospect.  The  formal  garden,  with  its  high  bounding  walls, 
lay  below,  contracted  as  it  seemed,  to  a  mere  parterre  ;  while  the 
view  extended  beyond  them  down  a  wooded  glen,  where  the  small 
river  was  sometimes  visible,  sometimes  hidden  in  copse.  The  eye 
might  be  delayed  by  a  desire  to  rest  on  the  rocks,  which  here  and 
there  rose  from  the  dell  with  massive  or  spiry  fronts,  or  it  might 
dwell  on  the  noble,  though  ruined  tower,  which  was  here  beheld 
in  all  its  dignity,  frowning  from  a  promontory  over  the  river. 
To  the  left  were  seen  two  or  three  cottages,  a  part  of  the  village  ; 
the  brow  of  the  hill  concealed  the  others.  The  glen,  or  dell, 
was  tennmated  by  a  sheet  of  water,  called  Loch-Veolan,  into 
which  the  brook  discharged  itself,  and  which  now  glistened  in 
the  western  sun.  The  distant  country  seemed  open  and  varied 
in  surface,  though  not  wooded  ;  and  there  was  nothing  to  inter 
rupt  the  view  until  the  scene  was  bounded  by  a  ridge  of  distant 
and  blue  hills,  which  formed  the  southern  boundary  of  the 
strath  or  valley.  To  this  pleasant  station  Miss  Bradwardina 
had  ordered  coffee. 


88  WAVER  LEY, 

The  view  of  the  old  tower,  or  fortalice,  introduced  somf 
family  cTnec^otes  and  tales  of  Scottish  chivalry,  which  the  Baron 
told  with  great  enthusiasm.  The  projecting  peak  of  an  impend- 
ing crag  which  rose  near  it,  had  acquired  the  name  of  St. 
Swithin's  Chair.  It  was  the  scene  of  a  peculiar  superstition, 
of  which  Mr.  Kubrick  mentioned  some  curious  particulars,  which 
reminded  Waverley  of  a  rhyme  quoted  by  Edgar  in  King  Lear; 
and  Rose  was  called  upon  to  sing  a  little  legend,  in  which  they 
had  been  interwoven  by  some  village  poet, 

Who,  noteless  as  the  race  from  which  he  sprung, 
Saved  others'  names,  but  left  his  own  unsung. 

The  sweetness  of  her  voice,  and  the  simple  beauty  of  her 
music,  gave  all  the  advantage  which  the  minstrel  could  have 
desired,  and  which  his  poetry  so  much  wanted.  I  almost  doubt 
if  it  can  be  read  with  patience,  destitute  of  these  advantages  ; 
although  I  conjecture  the  following  copy  to  have  been  some- 
what corrected  by  Waverley,  to  suit  the  taste  of  those  wh« 
might  not  relish  pure  antiquity  :— 

^t.  ^fajil^iu's  C^air. 

On  Hallow-Mass  Eve,  ere  ye  boune  ye  to  resftj, 
Ever  beware  that  your  couch  be  bless'd ; 
Sign  it  with  cross,  and  sain  it  with  bead. 
Sing  the  Ave,  and  say  the  Creed. 

For  on  Hallow-Mass  Eve  the  Night-Hag  wiH  tide^ 
And  all  her  nine-fold  sweeping  on  by  her  side, 
Whether  the  wind  sing  lowly  or  loud, 
Sailing  through  moonshine  or  swath' d  in  the  doud 

The  Lady  she  sat  in  Swithin's  Chair, 

The  dew  of  the  night  has  damp'd  her  hair ; 

Her  cheek  was  pale — but  resolved  and  high 

Was  the  word  of  her  lip  and  the  glance  of  her  ey^ 

She  mutter'd  the  spell  of  St.  Swithin  bold, 
When  his  naked  foot  traced  the  midnight  wold, 
When  he  stopp'd  the  Hag  as  she  rode  the  nighti 
And  bade  her  descend,  and  her  promise  plight. 

He  that  dare  sit  on  St.  Swithin's  Chair, 
When  the  Night-Hag  wings  the  troubled  air. 
Questions  three,  when  he  speaks  the  spell, 
He  may  ask,  and  she  must  tell. 

The  Baron  has  been  with  King  Robert  his  liegc^ 
These  three  long  years  in  battle  and  siege  ; 
News  are  there  none  of  his  weal  or  his  woe, 
And  fain  the  Lady  his  fate  would  know. 


tVA  VRRLEY.  If 

She  shudders  and  stops  as  the  charm  she  speaks ; 
Is  it  the  moody  owl  that  shrieks  ? 
Oris  it  that  sound,  betwixt  laughter  and  scream. 
The  voice  of  the  Demon  who  haunts  the  stream  r 

The  moan  of  the  wind  sunk  silent  and  low. 
And  the  roaring  torrent  has  ceased  to  flow; 
The  calm  was  more  dreadful  than  raging  storm, 
When  the  cold  gray  mist  brought  the  ghastly  foimt 

•  «  •  *  • 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  the  company,  especially  Captain 
Waverley,  who  listens  with  such  laudable  gravity ;  it  is  but  a 
fragment,  although  I  think  there  are  other  verses,  describing 
the  return  of  the  Baron  from  the  wars,  and  how  the  lady  was 
found  '  clay-cold  upon  the  grounsill  ledge.'  " 

"  It  is  one  of  those  figments,"  observed  Mr.  Bradwardine, 
"  with  which  the  early  history  of  distinguished  families  was 
deformed  in  the  times  of  superstition ;  as  that  of  Rome  and 
other  ancient  nations,  had  their  prodigies,  sir,  the  which  you 
may  read  in  ancient  histories,  or  in  the  little  work  compiled  by 
Julius  Obsequens,  and  inscribed  by  the  learned  Scheffer,  the 
editor,  to  his  patron,  Benedictus  Skytte,  Baron  of  Duder- 
shoff." 

"  My  father  has  a  strange  defiance  of  the  marvellous.  Cap- 
tain Waverley,"  observed  Rose,  "and  once  stood  firm  when  a 
whole  synod  of  Presbyterian  divines  were  put  to  the  rout  by  a 
sudden  apparition  of  the  foul  fiend." 

Waverley  looked  as  if  desirous  to  hear  more. 

"  Must  I  tell  my  story  as  well  as  sing  my  song  ? — Well— 
Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  an  old  woman,  called  Janet  Gel- 
latley,  who  was  suspected  to  be  a  witch,  on  the  infallible 
grounds  that  she  was  very  old,  very  ugly,  very  poor,  and  had 
two  sons,  one  of  whom  was  a  poet,  and  the  other  a  fool,  which 
visitation  all  the  neighborhood  agreed,  had  come  upon  her  for 
the  sin  of  witchcraft.  And  she  was  imprisoned  for  a  week  in 
the  steeple  of  the  parish  church,  and  sparingly  supplied  with 
food,  and  not  permitted  to  sleep,  until  she  herself  became  as 
much  persuaded  of  her  being  a  witch  as  her  accusers  ;  and  in 
this  lucid  and  happy  state  of  mind  was  brought  forth  to  make 
a  clean  breast,  that  is,  to  make  open  confession  of  her  sorcer- 
ies before  all  the  whig  gentry  and  ministers  in  the  vicinity,  who 
were  no  conjurors  themselves.  My  father  went  to  see  fair 
play  between  the  witch  and  the  clergy ;  for  the  witch  had  been 
born  on  his  estate.  And  while  the  witch  was  confessing  that 
the  Ep^wiy  appeared,  and  made   his  addresses  to  her  as  n 


^  1VAVERLEY. 

handsome  black  man — which,  if  you  could  have  seen  poor  old 
blear-eyed  Janet,  reflected  little  honor  on  Apollyon's  taste— 
and  while  the  auditors  listened  with  astonished  ears,  and  the 
clerk  recorded  with  a  trembling  hand,  she,  all  of  a  sudden, 
changed  the  low  mumbling  tone  with  which  she  spoke,  into  a 
shrill  yell,  and  exclaimed,  '  Look  to  yourselves  I  look  to  your 
selves  I  I  see  the  Evil  One  sitting  in  the  midst  of  ye.'  The 
surprise  was  general,  and  terror  and  flight  its  immediate  con- 
sequences. Happy  were  those  who  were  next  the  door ;  and 
many  were  the  disasters  that  befell  hats,  bands,  cuffs,  and 
wigs,  before  they  could  get  out  of  the  church,  where  they  left 
the  obstinate  prelatist  to  settle  matters  with  the  witch  and  her 
admirer,  at  his  own  peril  or  pleasure." 

"  Risu  sohnmtur  tabula;"  said  the  Baron  j  "  when  they  re 
covered  their  panic  trepidation,  they  were  too  much  ashamed 
to  bring  any  wakening  of  the  process  against  Janet  Gellat* 
ley."^ 

This  anecdote  led  into  a  long  discussion  of 

All  those  idle  thoughts  and  phantasies, 
Devices,  dreams,  opinions  unsound. 
Shows,  visions,  soothsays,  and  prophecies, 
And  all  that  feigned  is,  as  leasings,  tales,  and  lies. 

With  such  conversation,  and  the  romantic  legends  which  it 
produced,  closed  our  hero's  second  evening  ia  the  house  erf 
TuUy-Veolan. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH 

A    DISCOVERY — WAVERLEY    BECOMES    DOMESTICATED   AT  TULL¥« 

VEOLAN. 

The  next  day  Edward  arose  betimes,  and  in  a  morning 
walk  around  the  house  and  its  vicinity,  came  suddenly  upon  a 
small  court  in  front  of  the  dog-kennel,  where  his  friend  Uavie 
was  employed  about  his  four-footed  charge.  One  quick  glance 
of  his  eye  recognized  Waverley,  when,  instantly  turning  his 
back,  as  if  he  had  not  observed  him,  he  began  to  sing  part  <rf 
an  old  ballad : — 

Young  men  will  love  thee  more  fair  and  more  fast 

Heard  ye  so  merry  tiie  littie  bird  sing  ? 
Old  men's  love  the  longest  will  last, 

And  the  throstle-cock  s  head  is  under  hit  wing. 


WAVERLEY.  gg 

The  young  man's  wrath  is  like  light  stray  on  fire 

Heard  ye  so  merry  the  little  bird  sing? 
But  like  red-hot  steel  is  the  old  man's  ire, 

And  the  throstle-cock's  headts  under  his  wing. 

The  young  man  will  brawl  at  the  evenmg  board ; 

Heard  ye  so  merry  the  little  bird  sing  f 
But' the  old  man  will  draw  at  the  dawning  the  sword, 

And  the  throstle-cock's  head  is  under  his  wing. 

Waverley  could  not  avoid  observing  that  Davie  laid  somC' 
thing  like  a  satirical  emphasis  on  these  lines.  He  therefore 
approached,  and  endeavored,  by  sundry  queries,  to  elicit  from 
him  what  the  innuendo  might  mean  ;  but  Davie  had  no  mind  to 
explain,  and  had  wit  enough  to  make  his  folly  cloak  his 
knavery.  Edward  could  collect  nothing  from  him,  excepting 
that  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple  had  gone  home  yesterday 
morning,  "  wi'  his  boots  fu'  o'  bluid."  In  the  garden,  however, 
he  met  the  old  butler,  who  no  longer  attempted  to  conceal, 
that,  having  been  bred  in  the  nursery  line  with  Sumack  &  Co. 
of  Newcastle,  he  sometimes  wrought  a  turn  in  the  flower-bor- 
ders to  oblige  the  Laird  and  Miss  Rose.  By  a  series  of 
queries,  Edward  at  length  discovered,  with  a  painful  feeling  of 
surprise  and  shame,  that  Balmawhapple's  submission  and 
apology  had  been  the  consequence  of  a  rencontre  with  the 
Baron  before  his  guest  had  quitted  his  pillow,  in  which  the 
younger  combatant  had  been  disarmed  and  wounded  in  the 
sword  arm. 

Greatly  mortified  at  this  information,  Edward  sought  out  his 
friendly  host,  and  anxiously  expostulated  with  him  upon  the 
injustice  he  had  done  him  in  anticipating  his  meeting  with  Mr. 
Falconer,  a  circumstance,  which,  considering  his  youth  and  the 
profession  of  arms  which  he  had  just  adopted,  was  capable  of 
being  represented  much  to  his  prejudice.  The  Baron  justified 
himself  at  greater  length  than  I  choose  to  repeat.  He  urged, 
that  the  quarrel  was  common  to  them,  and  that  Balmawhapple 
could  not,  by  the  code  of  honor,  evife  giving  satisfaction  to 
both,  which  he  had  done  in  his  case  by  an  honorable  meeting, 
and  in  that  of  Edward  by  such  a  palinode  as  rendered  the  use 
of  the  sword  unnecessary,  and  which,  being  made  and  accept- 
ed, must  necessarily  sopite  the  whole  affair.  With  this  excuse 
or  explanation,  Waverley  was  silenced,  if  not  satisfied,  but  he 
could  not  help  testifying  some  displeasure  against  the  Blessed 
Bear,  which  had  given  rise  to  the  quarrel,  nor  refrain  from 
hinting,  that  the  sanctified  epithet  was  hardly  appropriate.  The 
Baron  observed,  he  could  not  deny  that  "  the  Bear,  though 


9« 


tVAVERLEV. 


allowed  by  heralds  as  a  most  honorable  ordinary',  had,  never 
theless,  somewhat  fierce,  churlisli,  and  morose  in  his  disposi- 
tion (as  might  be  read  in  Archibald  Simpson,  pastor  of  Dal 
keith's  Hkroglyphica  AnimaHuni),  and  had  thus  been  the  type 
of  many  quarrels  and  dissensions  which  had  occurred  In  the 
nouse  of  Bradwardine ;  of  which,"  he  continued,  "  I  might 
commemorate  mine  own  unfortunate  dissension  with  my  third 
cousin  by  the  mother's  side.  Sir  Hew  Halbert,  who  ft^as  so  un- 
thinking as  to  deride  my  family  name,  as  if  it  had  been  quasi 
Bear-  Wardeti ;  a  most  uncivil  jest,  since  it  not  only  insinuated 
that  the  founder  of  our  house  occupied  such  a  mean  situatioq 
as  to  be  a  custodier  of  wild  beasts,  a  charge  which,  ye  must 
have  observed,  is  only  intrusted  to  the  very  basest  plebeians  ; 
but,  moreover,  seemed  to  infer  that  our  coat-armor  had  not 
been  achieved  by  honorable  actions  in  war,  but  bestowed  by 
way  of  paranomasia,  or  pun,  upon  our  family  appellation — a 
sort  of  bearing  which  the  French  call  annoires  par/antes  ;  the 
Latin  arma  cantatia ;  and  your  English  authorities,  canting 
heraldry  ;  being  indeed  a  species  of  emblazoning  more  befitting 
canters,  gaberlunzies,  and  such  like  mendicants,  whose  gibber- 
ish is  formed  upon  playing  upon  the  word,  than  the  noble,  hon- 
orable, and  useful  science  of  heraldry,  which  assigns  armorial 
bearings  as  the  reward  of  noble  and  generous  actions,  and  not 
to  tickle  the  ear  with  vain  quodlibets,  such  as  are  found  in  jest- 
books."  "^  Of  his  quarrel  with  Sir  Hew  he  said  nothing  more, 
than  that  it  was  settled  in  a  fitting  manner. 

Having  been  so  minute  with  respect  to  the  diversions  of 
Tully-Veolan,  on  the  first  days  of  Edward's  arrival,  for  the 
purpose  of  introducing  its  inmates  to  the  reader's  acquaintance, 
it  becomes  less  necessarj'  to  trace  the  progress  of  his  inter- 
course  with  the  same  accuracy.  It  is  probable  that  a  young 
man,  accustomed  to  more  cheerful  society,  would  have  tired  of 
the  conversation  of  so  violent  an  asserter  of  the  "boast  of 
heraldry "  as  the  Baron  ;  but  Edward  found  an  agreeable 
variety  in  that  of  Miss  Bradwardine,  who  listened  with  eager- 
ness to  his  remarks  upon  literature,  and  showed  great  justness 
of  taste  in  her  answers.  The  sweetness  of  her  disposition  had 
made  her  submit  with  complacency,  and  even  pleasure,  to  the 
course  of  reading  prescribed  by  her  father,  although  it  not 
only  comprehended  several  heavy  folios  of  histor}\  but  certain 
gigantic  tomes  in  high-church  polemics.  In  heraldry  he  was 
fortunately  contented  to  give  her  only  such  a  slight  tincture  as 
might  be  acquired  by  perusal  of  the  two  folio  volumes  of 
Nisbet.    Rose  was  indeed  the  very  apple  of  her  father's  eye. 


WAVER  LEY. 


93 


Her  constant  liveliness,  her  attention  to  all  those  little  observ- 
ances most  gratifyin-g  to  those  who  would  never  think  of 
exacting  them,  her  beauty,  m  which  he  recalled  the  features  ot 
his  beloved  wife,  her  unfeigned  piety,  and  the  noble  generosity 
of  her  disposition,  would  have  justified  the  affection  of  the 
most  doting  father. 

His  anxiety  on  her  behalf  did  not,  however,  seem  to  extend 
itself  in  that  quarter,  where,  according  to  the  general  opinion, 
it  is  most  efficiently  displayed  ;  in  laboring,  namely,  to  estab- 
lish her  in  life,  either  by  a  large  dowry  or  a  wealthy  marriage. 
By  an  old  settlement,  almost  all  the  landed  estates  of  the 
Baron  went,  after  his  death,  to  a  distant  relation  ;  and  it  was 
supposed  that  Miss  Bradwardine  would  remain  but  slenderly 
provided  for,  as  the  good  gentleman's  cash  matters  had  been 
too  long  under  the  exclusive  charge  of  Baillie  Macwheeble,  to 
admit  of  any  great  expectations  from  his  personal  succession. 
It  is  true  the  said  Baillie  loved  his  patron  arid  his  patron's 
daughter  next  (although  at  an  incomparable  distance)  to  himself. 
He  thought  it  was  possible  to  set  aside  the  settlement  on  the  male 
line,  and  had  actually  procured  an  opinion  to  that  effect  (and, 
as  he  boasted,  without  a  fee)  from  an  eminent  Scottish  counsel, 
under  whose  notice  he  contrived  to  bring  the  point  while  con- 
sulting him  regularly  on  some  other  business.  But  the  Baron 
would  not  listen  to  such  a  proposal  for  an  instant.  On  the 
contrary,  he  used  to  have  a  perverse  pleasure  in  boasting  that 
the  baroAy  of  Bradwardine  was  a  male  fief,  the  first  charter 
having  been  given  at  that  early  period  when  women  were  not 
deemed  capable  to  hold  a  feudal  grant ;  because,  according  to 
Les  coustiismes  de  Nortnandie  c' est  rho7nnie  ki  se  bast  et  ki 
coiiseille ;  or,  as  is  yet  more  ungallantly  expressed  by  other 
authorities,  all  of  whose  barbarous  names  he  delighted  to  quote 
at  full  length,  because  a  woman  could  not  serve  the  superior,  or 
feudal  lord,  in  war,  on  account  of  the  decorum  of  her  sex,  nor 
assist  him  with  advice,  because  of  her  limited  intellect,  nor 
keep  his  counsel,  owing  to  the  infirmity  of  her  disposition.  He 
would  triumphantly  ask  how  it  would  become  a  female,  and 
that  female  a  Bradwardine,  to  be  seen  employed  /;/  servitio 
exuendi,  sen  detrahcndi,  caligas  regis  post  battaUam  ?  that  is,  in 
pulling  off  the  king's  boots  after  an  engagement,  which  "was  the 
feudal  service  by  which  he  held  the  barony  of  Bradwardine. 
"  No,  "  he  said,  "  beyond  hesitation,  proctil dubio^  many  females, 
as  worthy  as  Rose,  had  been  excluded,  in  order  to  make  way 
for  my  own  succession,  and  Heaven  forbid  ihat  I  should  do 
aught  that  might  contravene  the  destination  of  my  forefathers, 


94 


WAVERLEY, 


or  impinge  upon  the  riglit  of  my  kinsman,  Malcolm  Brad 
wardine  of  Inchgrabbit,  an  honorable,  though  decayed  branch 
of  my  own  family.  " 

The  Baillie,  as  prime  minister,  having  received  this  decisive 
communication  from  his  sovereign,  durst  not  press  his  own 
opinion  any  farther,  but  contented  himself  with  deploring,  on 
all  suitable  occasions,  to  Saunderson,  the  mmister  of  the  in- 
terior, the  laird's  self-willedness  and  with  laying  plans  for 
uniting  Rose  with  the  young  Laird  of  Balmawhapple,  who  had 
a  fine  estate,  only  moderately  burdened,  and  was  a  faultless 
young  gentleman,  being  as  sober  as  a  saint — if  you  keep  brandy 
from  him,  and  him  from  brandy — and  \vho,  in  brief,  had  no 
imperfection  but  that  of  keeping  light  company  at  a  time  ;  such 
asjinker,  th^horse-couper,  and  Gibby  Gaethroughwi't,  the  piper 
o'  Cupar ;  "  o'  whilk  follies,  Mr.  Saunderson,  he'll  mend,  he'll 
mend," — pronounced  the  Baillie. 

"  Like  sour  ale  in  simmer,"  added  Davie  Gellatley,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  nearer  the  conclave,  than  they  were  aware  of. 

Miss  Bradwardine,  such  as  we  have  described  her,  with  all 
the  simplicity  and  curiosity  of  a  recluse,  attached  herself  to  the 
opportunities  of  increasing  her  store  of  literature  which  Ed- 
ward's visit  afforded  her.  He  sent  for  some  of  his  books  from 
his  quarters  and  they  opened  to  her  sources  of  delight  of  which 
she  had  hitherto  had  no  idea.  The  best  English  poets,  ot 
every  description,  and  other  works  on  belles  lettres,  made  a 
part  of  this  precious  cargo.  Her  music,  even  her  flowers,  were 
neglected,  and  Saunders  not  only  mourned  over,  but  began  to 
mutiny  against  the  labor  for  which  he  now  scarce  received 
thanks.  These  new  jDleasures  became  gradually  enhanced  by 
sharing  them  with  one  of  a  kindred  taste.  Edward's  readiness 
to  comment,  to  recite,  to  explain  difficult  passages,  rendered 
his  assistance  invaluable  ;  and  the  wild  romance  of  his  spirit 
delighted  a  character  too  young  and  inexperienced  to  observe 
its  deficiencies.  Upon  subjects  which  interested  him,  and  when 
quite  at  ease,  he  possessed  that  flow  of  natural,  and  somewhat 
florid  eloquence,  which  has  been  supposed  as  powerful  even  as 
figure,  fashion,  fame,  or  fortune,  in  winning  the  female  heart. 
There  was,  therefore,  an  increasing  danger,  in  this  constant 
intercourse,  to  poor  Rose's  peace  of  mind  which  was  the  more 
imminent,  as  her  father  was  greatly  too  much  abstracted  in  his 
studies,  and  wrapped  up  in  his  own  dignity,  to  dream  of  his 
daughter's  incurring  it.  The  daughters  of  the  house  of  Brad- 
wardine were,  in  his  opinion,  like  those  of  the  house  of  Bour- 
bon or  Austria,  placed  high  above  the  clouds  of  passion  which 


WAVERLEY. 


95 


wight  obfuscate  the  intellects  of  meaner  females  ;  they  moved 
in  another  sphere,  were  governed  by  other  feelings,  and  amen- 
able to  other  rules,  than  those  of  idle  and  fantastic  affection. 
In  short,  he  shut  his  eyes  so  resolutely  to  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  Edward's  intimacy  with  Miss  Bradwardine,  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  concluded  that  he  had  opened  them  to  the 
advantages  of  a  match  between  his  daughter  and  the  wealthy 
young  Englishman,  and  pronounced  him  much  less  a  fool  than 
he  had  generally  shown  himself  in  cases  where  his  own  interest 
was  concerned. 

If  the  Baron,  however,  had  really  meditated  such  an  alli- 
ance, the  indifference  of  Waverley  would  have  been  an  insu- 
perable bar  to  his  project.  Our  hero,  since  mixing  more  freely 
with  the  world,  had  learned  to  think  with  great  shame  and  con- 
fusion upon  his  mental  legend  of  Saint  Cecilia,  and  the  vexa- 
tion of  these  reflections  was  likely,  for  some  time  at  least,  to 
counterbalance  the  natural  susceptibility  of  his  disposition. 
Besides,  Rose  Bradwardine,  beautiful  and  amiable  as  we  have  de- 
scribed her,  had  not  precisely  the  sort  of  beauty  or  merit  which 
captivates  a  romantic  imagination  in  early  youth.  She  was  too 
frank,  too  confiding,  too  kind ;  amiable  qualities,  undoubtedly,  but 
destructive  of  the  marvellous,  with  which  a  youth  of  imagination 
delights  to  address  the  empress  of  his  affections.  Was  it  possible 
to  bow,  to  tremble,  and  to  adore,  before  the  timid,  yet  playful 
little  girl,  who  now  asked  Edward  to  mend  her  pen,  now  to 
construe  a  stanza  in  Tasso,  and  now  how  to  spell  a  very — very 
long  word  in  her  version  of  it  ?  All  these  incidents  have  their 
fascination  on  the  mind  at  a  certain  period  of  life,  but  not 
when  a  youth  is  entering  it,  and  rather  looking  out  for  some 
object  whose  affection  may  dignify  him  in  his  own  eyes,  than 
stooping  to  one  who  looks  up  to  him  for  such  distinction. 
Hence,  though  there  can  be  no  rule  in  so  capricious  a  passion, 
early  love  is  frequently  ambitious  in  choosing  its  object ;  or, 
which  comes  to  the  same,  selects  her  (as  in  the  case  of  Saint 
Cecilia  aforesaid)  from  a  situation  that  gives  fair  scope  for 
le  bean  ideal,  which  the  reality  of  intimate  and  familiar  life 
rather  tends  to  limit  and  impair.  I  knew  a  very  accomplished 
and  sensible  young  man  cured  of  a  violent  passion  for  a  pretty 
woman,  whose  talents  were  not  equal  to  her  face  and  figure, 
by  being  permitted  to  bear  her  company  for  a  whole  afternoon. 
Thus,  it  is  certain,  that  had  Edward  enjoyed  such  an  op- 
portunity of  conversing  with  Miss  Stubbs,  Aunt  Rachel's 
precaution  would  have  been  unnecessary,  for  he  would  as  soon 
have  fallen  in  love  with  the  dairy-maid.     And  although  Miss 


06  WAVE  RLE  Y. 

Bradwardine  was  a  very  different  character,  it  seems  probable 
that  the  very  intimacy  of  their  intercourse  prevented  his  feel- 
ing for  her  other  sentiments  than  those  of  a  brother  for  an 
amiable  and  accomplished  sister  ;  while  the  sentiments  of  poor 
Rose  were  gradually,  and  without  her  being  conscious,  assum- 
ing a  shade  of  warmer  affection. 

I  ought  to  have  said  that  Edward,  when  he  sent  to  Dundee 
for  the  books  before  mentioned,  had  applied  for,  and  received 
permission,  extending  his  leave  of  absence.  But  the  letter  of 
his  commanding-officer  contained  a  friendly  recommendation 
to  him,  not  to  spend  his  time  exclusively  with  persons,  who, 
estimable  as  they  might  be  in  a  general  sense,  could  not  be 
supposed  well  affected  to  a  government,  which  they  declined  to 
acknowledge  by  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance.  The  letter 
further  insinuated,  though  with  great  delicacy,  that  although 
some  family  connections  might  be  supposed  to  render  it  neces- 
sary for  Captain  Waverley  to  communicate  with  gentlemen 
who  were  in  this  unpleasant  state  of  suspicion,  yet  his  father's 
situation  and  wishes  ought  to  prevent  his  prolonging  those  at- 
tentions into  exclusive  intimacy.  And  it  was  intimated,  that 
while  his  political  principles  were  endangered  by  communicat- 
ing, with  laymen  of  this  description,  he  might  also  receive  erro- 
neous impressions  in  religion  from  the  prelatic  clergy,  who  so 
perversely  labored  to  set  up  the  royal  prerogative  in  things 
sacred. 

This  last  insinuation  probably  induced  Waverley  to  set 
both  down  to  the  prejudices  of  his  commanding-officer.  He  was 
sensible  that  Mr.  Bradwardine  had  acted  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous delicacy,  in  never  entering  upon-  any  discussion  that  had 
the  most  remote  tendency  to  bias  his  mind  in  political  opinions, 
although  he  was  himself  not  only  a  decided  partisan  of  the  ex- 
iled family,  but  had  been  trusted  at  different  times  with  im- 
portant commissions  for  their  service.  Sensible,  therefore, 
that  there  was  no  risk  of  his  being  preverted  from  his  alle- 
giance, Edward  felt  as  if  he  should  do  his  uncle's  old  friend 
injustice  in  removing  from  a  house  where  he  gave  and  received 
pleasure  and  amusement,  merely  to  gratify  a  prejudiced  and 
ill-judged  suspicion.  He  therefore  wrote  a  very  general  an- 
swer, assuring  his  commanding-officer  that  his  loyalty  was  not 
in  the  most  distant  danger  of  contamination,  and  continued  an 
honored  guest  and  inmate  of  the  house  of  Tully-Veolaii. 


WAVERLEY.  97 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH. 

A   CREAGH^*   AND    ITS   CONSEQUENCES. 

When  Edward  had  been  a  guest  at  TuUy-Veolan  nearly 
six  weeks,  he  described  one  morning,  as  he  took  his  usual  walk 
before  the  breakfast  hour,  signs  of  uncommon  perturbation  in 
the  family.  Four  bare-legged  dairy-maids,  with  each  an  empty 
milk-paii  in  her  hand,  ran  about  with  frantic  gestures,  and  ut- 
tering loud  exclamations  of  surprise,  grief  and  resentment. 
From  their  appearance,  a  pagan  might  have  conceived  them  a 
detachment  of  the  celebrated  Belides,  just  come  from  their 
baleing  penance.  As  nothing  was  to  be  got  from  the  distracted 
chorus,  excepting  "  Lord  guide  us  !  "  and  "  Eh  sirs  !  "  ejacula- 
tions which  threw  no  light  upon  the  cause  of  their  dis- 
may, Waverley  repaired  to  the  fore-court,  as  it  was  called, 
where  he  beheld  Baillie  Macwheeble  cantering  his  white  pony 
down  the  avenue  with  all  the  speed  it  could  muster.  He  had 
arrived,  it  would  seem,  upon  a  hasty  summons,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  half  a  score  of  peasants  from  the  village,  who  had  no 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  pace  with  him. 

The  Baillie,  greatly  too  busy,  and  too  important,  to  enter 
into  explanations  with  Edward,  summoned  forth  Mr.  Saunder- 
son,  who  appeared  with  a  countenance  in  which  dismay  was 
mingled  with  solemnity,  and  they  immediately  entered  into 
close  conference,  Davie  Gellatley  was  also  seen  in  the  group, 
idle  as  Diogenes  at  Sinope,  while  his  countrymen  were  prepar- 
ing for  a  siege.  His  spirits  always  rose  with  anything,  good 
or  bad,  which  occasioned  tumult,  and  he  continued  frisking, 
hopping,  dancing,  and  singing  the  burden  of  an  old  ballad, — 

Our  gear's  a'  gane,' 

until,  happening  to  pass  too  near  the  Baillie,  he  received  an 
admonitory  hint  from  his  horsewhip,  which  converted  his  songs 
into  lamentation. 

Passing  from  thence  towards  the  garden,  Waverley  beheld 
the  Baron  in  person,  measuring  and  re-measuring,  with  swift 
and  tremendous  strides,  the  length  of  the  terrace  ;  his  coun- 
tenance clouded  with  offended  pride  and  indignation,  and  the 
whole  of  his  demeanor  such  as  seemed  to  indicate,  that  any 
inquiry  concerning  the  cause  of  his  discomposure,  would  give 
pain  at  least,  if  not  offence.     Waverley  therefore  glided  int^ 


^8  ^  WAVER  LEY. 

the  house,  without  addressing  him,  and  took  his  way  to  thd 
breakfast  parlor,  where  he  found  his  young  friend  Rose,  who, 
though  she  neither  exhibited  the  resentment  of  her  father,  the 
turpid  importance  of  BaiUie  Macwheeble,  nor  the  despair  of 
the  handmaidens,  seemed  vexed  and  thoughtful.  A  single  word 
explained  the  mystery,  "  Your  breakfast  will  be  a  disturbed  one, 
Captain  Waverley.  A  party  of  Caterans  have  come  down 
upon  us  last  night,  and  have  driven  ofif  all  our  milch  cows." 

"  A  party  of  Caterans  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  robbers  from  the  neighboring  Highlands.  We  used 
to  be  quite  free  from  them  while  we  paid  blackmail  to  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor  Vich  Ian  Vohr  ;  but  my  father  thought  it  unworthy 
of  his  rank  and  birth  to  pay  it  any  longer,  and  so  this  disaster 
has  happened.  It  is  not  the  value  of  the  cattle.  Captain  Waver- 
ley, that  vexes  me  ;  but  my  father  is  so  much  hurt  at  the  affront, 
and  is  so  bold  and  hot,  that  I  fear  he  will  try  to  recover  them 
by  the  strong  hand  ;  and  if  he  is  not  hurt  himself,  he  will  hurt 
some  of  these  wild  people,  and  then  there  will  be  no  peace  be- 
tween them  and  us  perhaps  for  our  lifetime  ;  and  we  cannot 
defend  ourselves  as  in  old  times,  for  the  government  have  taken 
all  our  arms  ;  and  my  dear  father  is  so  rash — O  what  will  be- 
come of  us  !  " Here  poor  Rose  lost  heart  altogether,  and 

burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

The  Baron  entered  at  this  moment,  and  rebuked  her  with 
more  asperity  than  Waverley  had  ever  heard  him  use  to  any 
one.  "Was  it  not  a  shame,"  he  said,  "  that  she.  should  exhibit 
herself  before  any  gentleman  in  such  a  light,  as  if  she  shed 
tears  for  a  drove  of  horned  nolt  and  milch  kine,  like  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  Cheshire  yeoman  ! — Captain  Waverley,  I  must  request 
your  favorable  construction  of  her  grief,  which  may,  or  ough; 
to  proceed  solely  from  seeing  her  father's  estate  exposed  to 
spulzie  and  depredation  from  common  thieves  and  sorners,^ 
while  we  are  not  allowed  to  keep  half  a  score  of  muskets,  whether 
for  defence  or  rescue." 

BaiUie  Macwheeble  entered  immediately  afterwards,  and  by 
his  report  of  arms  and  ammunition  confirmed  this  statement, 
informing  the  Baron,  in  a  melancholy  voice,  that  though  the 
people  would  certainly  obey  his  honor's  orders,  yet  there  was 
no  chance  of  their  following  the  gear  to  ony  gude  purpose,  in 
respect  there  were  only  his  honor's  body  servants,  who  had 
swords  and  pistols,  and  the  depredators  were  twelve  High- 
landers,  completely  armed  after  the  manner  of  their  country. 
Having  delivered  this  doleful  annunciation,  he  assumed  a  pos» 
jure  of  silent  dejection,  shaking  his  head  slowly  with  the  motion 


WAVER  LEY. 


99 


of  a  pendulum  when  it  is  ceasing  to  vibrate,  and  then  remained 
stationary,  his  body  stooping  at  a  more  acute  angle  than  usual, 
and  the  latter  part  of  his  person  projecting  in  proportion. 

The  Baron,  meanwhile,  paced  the  room  in  silent  indignation, 
and  at  length  fixing  his  eye  upon  an  old  portrait,  whose  person 
was  clad  in  armor,  and  whose  features  glared  grimly  out  of  a 
huge  bush  of  hair,  part  of  which  descended  from  his  head  to  his 
shoulders,  and  part  from  his  chin  and  upper  lip  to  his  breast- 
plate,— "  That  gentleman.  Captain  Waverley,  my  grandsire,"  he 
said,  "  with  two  hundred  horse,  whom  he  levied  within  his  own 
bounds,  discomfited  and  put  to  the  rout  more  than  five  hun- 
dred of  thes«  Highland  reivers,  who  have  been  ever  lapis  offensi- 
onis,  et petra  scandali,  a  stumbling-block  and  a  rock  of  offence 
to  the  Lowland  vicinage — he  discomfited  them,  I  say,  when  they 
had  the  temerity  to  descend  to  harry  this  country,  in  the  time 
of  the  civil  dissensions,  in  the  year  of  grace,  sixteen  hundred 
forty  and  two.  And  now,  sir,  I,  his  grandson,  am  thus  used  at 
such  unworthy  hands  !  " 

Here  there  was  an  awful  pause  ;  after  which  all  the  com- 
pany, as  is  usual  in  cases  of  difificulty,  began  to  give  separate 
and  inconsistent  counsel.  Alexander  ab  Alexandre  proposed 
they  should  send  some  one  to  compound  with  the  Caterans, 
who  would  readily,  he  said,  give  up  their  prey  for  a  dollar  a- 
head.  The  Baillie  opined  that  this  transaction  would  amount 
to  theft-boot,  or  composition  of  felony  ;  and  he  recommended 
that  some  ca?iny  hand  should  be  sent  up  to  the  glens  to  make 
the  best  bargain  he  could,  as  it  were  for  himself,  so  that  the 
Laird  might  not  be  seen  in  such  a  transaction.  Edward  pro- 
posed to  send  off  to  the  nearest  garrison  for  a  party  of  soldiers 
and  a  magistrate's  warrant ;  and  Rose,  as  far  as  she  dared,  en- 
deavored to  insinuate  the  course  of  paying  the  arrears  of  tribute 
money  to  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  who,  they  all  knew> 
could  easily  procure  restoration  of  the  cattle,  if  he  were  prop- 
erly propitiated. 

None  of  these  proposals  met  the  Baron's  approbation.  The 
idea  of  composition,  direct  or  implied,  was  absolutely  ignomini- 
ous ;  that  of  Waverley  only  showed  that  he  did  not  understand 
the  state  of  the  country,  and  of  the  political  parties  which  di- 
vided it ;  and,  standing  matters  as  they  did  with  Fergus  Mac- 
Ivor  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  the  Baron  would  make  no  concession  to 
him,  were  it,  he  said,  "  to  procure  restitution  /«  ifitcgrum  of  every 
stirk  and  stot  that  the  cliief,  his  forefathers,  and  his  clan,  had 
Stolen  since  the  days  of  Malcr)lin  Canmore."  , 

In  fact,  his  voice  was  still  for  war,  and  he  proposed  to  send 


too  WAVER  LEY. 

expresses  to  Balmawhapple,  Killancureit,  Tulliellum,  and  otheS 
iairds,  who  were  exposed  to  similar  depredations,  inviting  them 
to  join  in  the  pursuit  j  "  and  then,  sir,  shall  these  nehulones  ne- 
guissimi,  as  Lesteus  calls  them,  be  brought  to  the  fate  of  theii 
predecessor  Cacus, 

•'  Elisos  oculos,et  siccum  sancjulne  guttur," 

The  BailUe,  who  by  no  means  relished  these  warlike  counsels, 
here  pulled  forth  an  immense  watch,  of  the  color,  and  nearly  of 
the  size,  of  a  pewter  warming-pan,  and  observed  it  was  now 
past  noon,  and  that  the  Caterans  had  been  seen  in  the  pass  ot 
Ballybrough  soon  after  sunrise  ;  so  that  before  the  allied  forces 
could  assemble,  they  and  their  prey  would  be  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  most  active  pursuit,  and  sheltered  in  those  pathless 
deserts,  where  it  was  neither  advisable  to  follow,  nor  indeed 
possible  to  trace  them. 

This  proposition  was  undeniable.  The  council  therefore 
broke  up  without  coming  to  any  conclusion,  as  has  occurred  to 
councils  of  more  importance  ;  only  it  was  determined  that  the 
Baillie  should  send  his  own  three  milk  cows  down  to  the  Mains 
for  the  use  of  the  Baron's  family,  and  brew  small  ale  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  milk  in  his  own.  To  this  arrangement,  which  was 
suggested  by  Saunderson,  the  Baillie  readily  assented,  both 
from  habitual  deference  to  the  family,  and  an  internal  con- 
sciousness that  his  courtesy  would,  in  some  mode  or  other,  be 
repaid  tenfold. 

The  Baron  having  also  retired  to  give  some  necessary  direc- 
tions, Waverley  seized  the  opportunity  to  ask,  whether  this 
Fergus,  with  the  unpronounceable  name,  was  the  chief  thief* 
taker  of  the  district  ? 

*'  Thief-taker  1 "  answered  Rose,  laughing ;  "  he  is  a  gentle- 
man of  great  honor  and  consequence  ;  the  chieftain  of  an  inde- 
pendent branch  of  a  powerful  Highland  clan,  and  is  much 
respected,  both  for  his  own  power,  and  that  of  his  kith,  kin,  and 
allies." 

"  And  what  has  he  to  do  with  the  thieves  then  ?  Is  he 
a  magistrate,  or  in  the  commission  of  the  peace  ?  "  asked  Wa- 
verley. 

"  The  commission  of  war  rather,  if  there  be  such  a  thing," 
said  Rose  ;  "  for  he  is  a  very  unquiet  neighbor  to  his  un-friends, 
and  keeps  a  gx&z.\.&x.  following  on  foot  than  many  that  has  thrice 
his  estate.  As  to  his  connection  with  the  thieves,  that  I  cannot 
well  explain  j  but  the  boldest  of  them  will  never  steal  a  hoof 
from  any  one  that  pays  black-mail  to  Vich  Ian  Vohr." 


tVAVERLEY.  101 

"  And  what  is  black-m^"  '  " 

**  A  sort  of  protection-money  that  Low-country  gentlemen 
and  heritors,  lynig  near  the  Highlands,  pay  to  some  Highland 
chief,  that  he  may  neither  do  them  harm  himself,  nor  suffer  it  to 
be  done  to  them  by  others  ;  and  then  if  your  cattle  are  stolen,  you 
have  only  to  send  him  word,  and  he  will  recover  them  j  or  it 
may  be,  he  will  drive  away  cows  from  some  distant  place,  where 
he  has  a  quarrel,  and  give  them  to  you  to  make  up  your  loss." 

"  And  is  this  sort  of  Highland  Jonathan  Wild  admitted  into 
society,  and  called  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  So  much  so,"  said  Rose,  "  that  the  quarrel  between  my 
father  and  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  began  at  a  county  meeting,  where 
he  wanted  to  take  precedence  of  all  the  Lowland  gentlemen  then 

E resent,  only  my  father  would  not  suffer  it.  And  then  he  up- 
raided  my  father  that  he  was  under  his  banner,  and  paid  him 
tribute  ;  and  my  father  was  in  a  towering  passion,  for  Baillie 
Macwheeble,  who  manages  such  things  his  own  way,  had  con- 
trived to  keep  this  black-mail  a  secret  from  him,  and  passed  it 
in  his  account  for  cess-money.  And  they  would  have  fought ; 
but  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  said,  very  gallantly,  he  would  never  raise 
his  hand  against  a  gray  head  that  was  so  much  respected  as  my 
father's. — O,  I  wish,  I  wish  they  had  continued  friends  !  ** 

"  And  did  you  ever  see  this  Mr.  Mac-Ivor,  if  that  be  his 
name.  Miss  Bradwardine  ?  " 

"  No,  that  is  not  his  name  ;  and  he  would  consider  master 
as  a  sort  of  affront,  only  that  you  are  an  Englishman,  and 
know  no  better.  But  the  Lowlanders  call  him,  like  other  gen- 
tlemen, by  the  name  of  his  estate,  Glennaquoich ;  and  the 
Highlanders  call  him  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  that  is,  the  Son  of  John 
the  Great ;  and  we  upon  the  braes  here  call  him  by  both 
names  indifferently." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never  bring  my  English  tongue  to  call 
him  by  either  one  or  other." 

"  But  he  is  a  very  polite,  handsome  man,"  continued  Rose  , 
'*  and  his  sister  Flora  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished young  ladies  in  this  country;  she  was  bred  in  a  con- 
vent in  France,  and  was  a  great  friend  of  mine  before  this 
unhappy  dispute.  Dear  Captain  Waverley,  try  your  influence 
with  my  father  to  make  matters  up.  I  am  sure  this  is  but  the 
beginning  of  our  troubles  ;  for  Tully-Veolan  has  never  been  a 
safe  or  quiet  residence  when  we  have  been  at  feud  with  the 
Highlanders.  When  I  was  a  girl  about  ten,  there  was  a  skir* 
mish  fought  between  a  party  of  twenty  of  tliem,  and  my  father 
And  his  servants,  behind  the  Mains;  and  tiie  bullets  broke 


iof  WAVERL&Y. 

several  panes  in  the  north  windows,  tliey  were  so  near.  Thre* 
of  the  Highlanders  were  killed,  and  they  brought  them  in 
wrapped  in  their  plaids,  and  laid  then  on  the  stone  floor  of  the 
hall ;  and  next  morning,  their  wives  and  daughters  came,  clap- 
ping their  hands,  and  crying  the  coronach,  and  shrieking,  and 
carried  away  the  dead  bodies,  with  the  pipes  playing  before  them. 
I  could  not  sleep  for  six  weeks  without  starting,  and  thinking 
I  heard  these  terrible  cries,  and  saw  the  bodies  lying  on  the 
steps,  all  stiff  and  swathed  up  in  their  bloody  tartans.  But 
since  that  time  there  came  a  party  from  the  garrison  at  Stirling, 
with  a  warrant  from  the  Lord  Justice  Clerk,  or  some  sucii  great 
man,  and  took  away  all  our  arms  ;  and  now,  how  arc  we  to 
protect  ourselves  if  they  come  down  in  any  strength  ?  " 

Waverley  could  not  help  starting  at  a  story  which  bore  so 
much  resemblance  to  one  of  his  own  day-dreams.  Here  was  a 
girl  scarce  seventeen,  the  gentlest  of  her  sex,  both  in  temper 
and  appearance,  who  had  witnessed  with  her  own  eyes  such  a 
scene  as  he  had  used  to  conjure  up  in  his  imagination,  as  only 
occurring  in  ancient  times,  and  spoke  of  it  coolly,  as  one  very 
likely  to  recur.  He  felt  at  once  the  impulse  of  curiosity,  and 
that  slight  sense  of  danger  which  only  serves  to  heighten  its 
interest.  He  might  have  said  with  Malvolio,  "  '  I  do  not  now 
fool  myself,  to  let  imagination  jade  me  1 '  I  am  actually  in  the 
land  of  military  and  romantic  adventures,  and  it  only  remains 
to  be  seen  what  will  be  my  own  share  in  them." 

The  whole  circumstances  now  detailed  concerning  the  state 
of  the  country,  seemed  equally  novel  and  extraordinary.  He 
had  indeed  often  heard  of  Highland  thieves,  but  had  no  idea 
of  the  systematic  mode  in  which  their  depredations  were  con- 
ducted ;  and  that  the  practice  was  connived  at,  and  even  en- 
couraged, by  many  of  the  Highland  chieftains,  who  not  only 
found  the  creaghs,  or  forays,  useful  for  the  purpose  of  training 
individuals  of  their  clan  to  the  practice  of  arms,  but  also  of 
maintaining  a  wholesome  terror  among  their  Lowland  neigh- 
bors, and  levying,  as  we  have  seen,  a  tribute  from  them,  undei 
color  of  protection-money. 

Baillie  Macwheeble,  who  soon  afterwards  entered,  expatiated 
still  more  at  length  upon  the  same  topic.  This  honest  gentle- 
man's conversation  was  so  formed  upon  his  professional  prac- 
tice, that  Davie  Gellatley  once  said  his  discourse  was  like  a 
•*  charge  of  horning."  He  assured  our  hero,  that  "  from  the 
maist  ancient  times  of  record,  the  lawless  thieves,  limmers,  and 
broken  men  of  the  Highlands,  had  been  in  fellowship  togethei 
by  reason  of  their  surnames,  for  the  committing  of  divers  thefts^ 


WAVERLEY, 


103 


feifs,  and  herships  upon  the  honest  men  of  the  Low  Country, 
when  they  not  only  introinitted  with  their  whole  goods  and 
ge3\r,  corn,  cattle,  horse,  nolt,  sheep,  outsight  and  insight  plen- 
ishing, at  their  wicked  pleasure,  but  moreover  made  prisoners, 
ransomed  them,  orconcussed  them  into  givmg  borrows  (pledges), 
to  enter  into  captivity  again  :  All  which  was  directly  prohibited 
in  drivers  parts  of  the  Statute  Book,  both  by  the  act  one  thou- 
sarxil  five  hundred  and  sixty-seven,  and  various  others  ;  the 
whilk  statutes,  with  all  that  had  followed  and  might  follovfl 
thereupon,  were  shamefully  broken  and  villipended  by  the  said 
sorners,  limmers,  and  broken  men,  associated  into  fellowships 
for  the  aforesaid  purposes  of  theft,  stouthrief,  fire-raising, 
murder,  raptiis  mulienon,  or  forcible  abduction  of  women,  and 
such  like  as  aforesaid." 

It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  Waverley  that  these  deeds  of 
violence  should  be  familiar  to  men's  minds,  and  currently 
talked  of,  as  falling  within  the  common  order  of  things,  and 
happening  daily  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  without  his  having 
crossed  the  seas,  and  while  he  was  yet  in  the  otherwise  well- 
ordered  island  of  Great  Britain.  -® 


CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH. 

AN   UNEXPECTED   ALLY   APPEARS. 

The  Baron  returned  at  the  dinner  hour,  and  had  in  a  great 
measure  recovered  his  composure  and  good  humor.  He  not 
only  confirmed  the  stories  which  Edward  had  heard  from  Rose 
and  Baillie  Macwheeble,  but  added  many  anecdotes  from  his 
own  experience,  concerning  the  state  of  the  Highlands  and 
their  inhabitants.  The  chiefs  he  pronounced  to  be,  in  general, 
gentlemen  of  great  honor  and  high  pedigree,  whose  word  was 
accounted  as  a  law  by  all  those  of  their  own  sept,  or  clan.  "It 
did  not  indeed,"  he  said,  "  become  them,  as  had  occurred  in 
late  instances,  to  propone  their  prosapia,  a  lineage,  which 
rested  for  the  most  part  on  the  vain  and  fond  rhymes  of  their 
Seannachies  or  Bhairds,  as  equiponderate  with  the  evidence  of 
ancient  cliarters  and  royal  grants  of  antiquity,  conferred  upon 
distinguished  houses  in  the  Low  Country  by  divers  Scottish 
iDonarehs  ;  nevertheless,  such  was  their  outncuidance  and  pre* 


104  IVAVERLEY, 

sumption,  as  to  uncIenMlue  those  who  possessed  such  evidenta, 
as  if  they  held  their  lands  in  a  sheep's  skin." 

This,  by  the  way,  pretty  well  explained  the  cause  of  quarrel 
between  the  Baron  and  his  Highland  ally.  But  he  went  on  to 
state  so  many  curious  particulars  concerning  the  manners,  cus- 
toms, and  habits  of  this  patriarchal  race,  that  Edward's  curiosity 
became  highly  interested,  and  he  inquired  whether  it  was  pos- 
sible to  make  with  safety  an  excursion  into  the  neighboring 
Highlands,  whose  dusky  barrier  of  mountains  had  already 
excited  his  wish  to  penetrate  beyond  them.  The  Baron  as- 
sured his  guest  that  nothing  would  be  more  easy,  providing 
this  quarrel  were  first  made  up,  since  he  could  himself  give  him 
letters  to  many  of  the  distinguished  chiefs,  who  would  receive 
him  with  the  utmost  courtesy  and  hospitality. 

While  they  were  on  this  topic,  the  door  suddenly  opened, 
and,  ushered  by  Saunders  Saunderson,  a  Highlander,  fully 
armed  and  equipped,  entered  the  apartment.  Had  it  not  been 
that  Saunders  acted  the  part  of  master  of  the  ceremonies  to 
this  martial  apparition,  without  appearing  to  deviate  from  his 
usual  composure,  and  that  neither  Mr.  Bradwardine  nor  Rose 
exhibited  any  emotion,  Edward  would  certainly  have  thought 
the  intrusion  hostile.  As  it  was,  he  started  at  the  sight  of  what 
he  had  not  yet  happened  to  see,  a  mountaineer  in  his  full 
national  costume.  The  individual  Gael  was  a  stout,  dark,  young 
man,  of  low  stature,  the  ample  folds  of  whose  plaid  added  to 
the  appearance  of  strength  which  his  person  exhibited.  The 
short  kilt  or  petticoat,  showed  his  sinewy  and  clean-made  limbs ; 
the  goat-skin  purse,  flanked  by  the  usual  defences,  a  dirk  and 
steel-wrought  pistol,  hung  before  him  ;  his  bonnet  had  a  short 
feather,  which  indicated  his  claim  to  be  treated  as  a  Duinhe* 
Wassel,  or  sort  of  gentleman  ;  a  broadsword  dangled  by  his 
side,  a  target  hung  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  long  Spanish 
fowling-piece  occupied  one  of  his  hands.  With  the  other  hand 
he  pulled  off  his  bonnet,  and  the  Baron,  who  well  knew  their 
customs,  and  the  proper  mode  of  addressing  them,  immediately 
said,  with  an  air  of  dignity,  but  without  rising,  and  much,  as 
Edward  thought,  in  the  manner  of  a  prince  receiving  an  em- 
bassy, "  Welcome  Evan  Dhu  Maccombich  ;  what  news  from 
Fergus  Mac-Ivor  Vich  Ian  Vohr  ?  " 

"  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  Vich  Ian  Vohr,"  said  the  ambassador, 
in  good  English,  "  greets  you  well.  Baron  of  Bradwardine  and 
Tully-Veolan,  and  is  sorrj'^  there  has  been  a  thick  cloud  inter- 
posed between  you  and  him,  which  has  kept  you  from  seeing 
and  considering  the  friendship  and  alliances  that  have  been 


WAVER  LEY. 


los 


between  your  houses  and  forbears  of  old  ;  and  he  prays  you  that 
the  cloud  may  pass  away,  and  that  things  may  be  as  they  have 
been  heretofore  between  the  clan  Ivor  and  the  house  of  Brad- 
wardine,  when  there  was  an  egg  between  them  for  a  flint,  and  a 
knife  for  a  sword.  And  he  expects  you  will  also  say,  you  are 
sorry  for  the  cloud,  and  no  man  shall  hereafter  ask  whether  it 
descended  from  the  hill  to  the  valley,  or  rose  from  the  valley 
to  the  hill ;  for  they  never  struck  with  the  scabbard  who  did 
not  receive  with  the  sword,  and  woe  to  him  who  would  lose  his 
friend  for  the  stormy  cloud  of  a  spring  morning." 

To  this  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  answered  with  suitable 
dignity,  that  he  knew  the  chief  of  clan  Ivor  to  be  a  well-wisher 
to  the  King,  and  he  was  sorry  there  should  have  been  a  cloud 
between  him  and  any  gentleman  of  such  sound  principles,  "  for 
when  folks  are  banding  together,  feeble  is  he  who  hath  no 
brother !  " 

This  appearing  perfectly  satisfactory,  that  the  peace  between 
these  august  persons  might  be  duly  solemnized,  the  Baron 
ordered  a  stoup  of  usquebaugh,  and,  filling  a  glass,  drank  to 
the  health  and  prosperity  of  Mac-Ivor  of  Glennaquoich  ;  upon 
which  the  Celtic  ambassador,  to  requite  his  politeness,  turned 
down  a  mighty  bumper  of  the  same  generous  liquor.,  seasoned 
with  his  good  wishes  to  the  house  of  Bradwardine. 

Having  thus  ratified  the  preliminaries  of  the  general  treaty 
of  pacification,  the  envoy  retired  to  adjust  with  Mr.  Macwheeble 
some  subordinate  articles  with  which  it  was  not  thought  neces- 
sary to  trouble  the  Baron,  These  probably  referred  to  the 
discontinuance  of  the  subsidy,  and  apparently  the  Baillie  found 
means  to  satisfy  their  ally,  without  suffering  his  master  to 
suppose  that  his  dignity  was  compromised.  At  least,  it  is 
certain,  that  after  the  plenipotentiaries  had  drunk  a  bottle  of 
brandy  in  single  drams,  which  seemed  to  have  no  more  effect 
upon  such  seasoned  vessels,  than  if  it  had  been  poured  upon 
the  two  bears  at  the  top  of  the  avenue,  Evan  Dhu  Macccmbich 
having  possessed  himself  of  all  the  information  which  he  could 
procure  respecting  the  robbery  of  the  preceding  night,  declared 
his  intention  to  set  off  immediately  in  pursuit  of  the  cattle, 
which  he  pronounced  to  be  "  no  far  off ; — they  have  broken  the 
bone,"  he  observed,  "but  they  have. had  no  time  to  suck  the 
marrow." 

Our  hero,  who  had  attended  Evan  Dhu  during  his  perquisi- 
tions, was  much  struck  with  the  ingenuity  which  he  displayed 
in  collecting  information,  and  the  precise  and  pointed  conclu- 
sions which  he  drew  from  it.     Evan  Dhu,  on  his  part,  was 


lo6  WAVER  LEY. 

obviously  flattered  with  the  attention  of  Waverley,  the  interest 
he  seemed  to  take  in  his  inquiries,  and  liis  curiosity  about  the 
customs  and  scenery  of  the  Hio^hlands.  Without  much  cere- 
mony he  invited  Edward  to  accompany  him  on  a  short  walk  of 
ten  or  fifteen  miles  into  the  mountains,  and  see  the  place  where 
the  cattle  were  conveyed  to  ;  adding,  "  If  it  be  as  I  suppose, 
you  never  saw  such  a  place  in  your  life,  nor  ever  will,  unless 
you  go  with  me  or  the  like  of  me." 

Our  hero,  feeling  his  curiosity  considerably  excited  by  the 
idea  of  visiting  the  den  of  a  Highland  Cacus,  took,  however, 
the  precaution  to  inquire  if  his  guide  might  be  trusted.  He 
was  assured,  that  the  invitation  would  on  no  account  have  been 
given,  had  there  been  the  least  danger,  and  that  all  he  had  to 
apprehend  was  a  little  fatigue  ;  and  as  Evan  proposed  he  should 
pass  a  day  at  his  chieftain's  house  in  returning,  where  he  would 
be  sure  of  good  accommodation  and  an  excellent  welcome, 
there  seemed  nothing  very  formidable  m  the  task  he  undertook. 
Rose,  indeed,  turned  pale  when  she  heard  of  it ;  but  her  father, 
who  loved  the  spirited  curiosity  of  his  young  friend,  did  not 
attempt  to  damp  it  by  an  alarm  of  danger  which  really  did  not 
exist ;  and  a  knapsack,  with  a  few  necessaries,  being  bound  on 
the  shoulders  of  a  sort  of  deputy  gamekeeper,  our  hero  set 
forth  with  a  fowling-piece  in  his  hand,  accompanied  by  his  new 
friend  Evan  Dhu,  and  followed  by  the  gamekeeper  aforesaid, 
and  by  two  wild  Highlanders,  the  attendants  of  Evan,  one  of 
whom  had  upon  his  shoulder  a  hatchet  at  the  end  of  a  pole 
called  a  Lochaber-axe,-^  and  the  other  a  long  ducking-gun. 
Evan,  upon  Edward's  inquiry,  gave  him  to  understand,  that 
this  martial  escort  was  by  no  means  necessary  as  a  guard,  but 
merely,  as  he  said,  drawing  up  and  adjusting  his  plaid  with  an 
air  of  dignity,  that  he  might  appear  decently  at  Tully-Veolan, 
and  as  Vich  Ian  Vohr's  foster-brother  ought  to  do.  "  Ah  !  " 
said  he,  "  if  you  Saxon  Duinhe'-wassel  (English  gentleman)  saw 
but  the  chief  with  his  tail  on  !  " 

*'  With  his  tail  on  ?  "  echoed  Edward,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Yes — that  is,  with  all  his  usual  followers,  when  he  visits 
those  of  the  same  rank.  There  is,  he  continued,  stopping  and 
drawing  himself  proudly  up,  while  he  counted  upon  his  fingers 
the  several  officers  of  his  chief 's  retinue  ;  there  is  his  henchman^ 
or  right-hand  man  ;  then  his  bard^  or  poet ;  then  his  bladier^  of 
orator,  to  make  harangues  to  the  great  folks  whom  he  visits ; 
then  his  gilly-more,  or  armor-bearer,  to  carry  his  sword,  and 
tirget,  and  his  gun  ;  then  his  gilly-cas flinch,  who  carries  him  on 
his  back  through  the  sikes  and  brooks  ;  then  his  gilly-comstriaJt% 


WAVERLEV.  tOf 

to  lead  his  horse  by  the  bridle  in  steep  and  difficult  paths  ;  then 
his  gilly-trusharnish,  to  carry  his  knapsack  ;  and  tlie  piper  and 
the  piper's  man,  and  it  may  by  a  dozen  young  lads  besides,  that 
have  no  business,  but  are  just  boys  of  the  belt,  to  follow  the 
laird,  and  do  his  honor's  bidding," 

"  And  does  your  Chief  regularly  maintain  all  the  men  ?  " 
demanded  Waverley. 

'■'  All  these  ?  "  replied  Evan  ;  "  ay,  and  many  a  fair  hea^ 
beside,  that  would  not  ken  where  to  lay  itself,  but  for  the  mickle 
barn  at  Glennaquoich." 

With  similar  tales  of  the  grandeur  of  the  chief  in  peace  and 
war,  Evan  Dhu  beguiled  the  way  till  they  approached  more 
closely  those  huge  mountains  which  Edward  had  hitherto  only 
seen  at  a  distance.  It  was  towards  evening  as  they  entered 
one  of  the  tremendous  passes  which  afford  communication 
between  the  high  and  low  country ;  the  path,  Vv'hich  was  extremely 
steep  and  rugged,  winded  up  a  chasm  between  two  tremendous 
rocks,  following  the  passage  which  a  foaming  stream,  that 
brawled  far  below,  appeared  to  have  worn  for  itself  in  the 
course  of  ages.  A  few  slanting  beams  of  the  sun,  which  was 
now  setting,  reached  the  water  in  its  darksome  bed,  and  showed 
it  partially,  chafed  by  a  hundred  rocks,  and  broken  by  a  hundred 
falls.  The  descent  from  the  path  to  the  stream  was  a  mere 
precipice,  with  here  and  there  a  projecting  fragment  of  granite, 
or  a  scathed  tree,  which  had  warped  its  twisted  roots  into  the 
fissures  of  the  rock.  On  the  right  hand,  the  mountain  rose 
above  the  path  with  ahnost  equal  inaccessibility  ;  but  the  hill 
on  the  opposite  side  displayed  a  shroud  of  copsewood,  with 
which  some  pines  were  intermingled. 

"  This,"  said  Evan,  "  is  the  pass  of  Bally-Brough,  which 
was  kept  in  former  times  by  ten  of  the  clan  Donnochie  against 
a  hundred  of  the  Low  Country  carles.  The  graves  of  the  slain 
are  still  to  be  seen  in  that  little  corri,  or  bottom,  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  burn — if  your  eyes  are  good,  you  may  see  the 
green  specks  among  the  heather. — See,  there  is  an  earn,  which 
you  southrons  call  an  eagle — you  have  no  such  birds  as  that 
in  England — he  is  going  to  fetch  his  supper  from  the  laird  of 
Bradwardine's  braes,  but  I'll  send  a  slug  after  him." 

He  fired  his  piece  accordingly,  but  missed  the  superb  mon- 
arch of  the  feathered  tribes,  who,  without  noticing  the  attempt 
to  annoy  him,  continued  his  majestic  flight  to  the  southward. 
A  thousand  birds  of  prey,  hawks,  kites,  carrion-crows,  and 
ravens,  disturbed  from  the  lodging  which  they  had  just  taken 
up  for  the  evening,  rose  at  the  report  of  the  gun,  and  mingled 


108  IVAVERLEY. 

their  hoarse  and  discordant  notes  with  the  echoes  which  replied 
to  it,  and  with  the  roar  of  the  mountain  cataracts,  Evan,  a 
little  disconcerted  at  having  missed  his  mark,  when  he  meant 
to  have  displayed  peculiar  dextent}',  covered  his  cc  nfusion  by 
whistling  part  of  a  pibroch  as  he  reloaded  his  piece,  and  pro- 
ceeded in  silence  up  the  pass. 

It  issued  in  a  narrow  glen,  between  two  mountains,  both  very 
lofty  and  covered  with  heath.  The  brook  continued  to  be 
their  companion,  and  they  advanced  up  its  mazes,  crossing 
them  now  and  then,  on  which  occasions  Evan  Dhu  uniformly 
offered  the  assistance  of  his  attendants  to  carry  over  Edward  j 
but  our  hero,  who  had  been  always  a  tolerable  pedestrian, 
declined  the  accommodation,  and  obviously  rose  in  his  guide's 
opinion,  by  showing  that  he  did  not  fear  wetting  his  feet.  In- 
deed he  was  anxious,  so  far  as  he  could  without  affectation,  to 
remove  the  opinion  which  Evan  seemed  to  entertain  of  the  effem- 
inacy of  the  Lowlanders,  and  particularly  of  the  English. 

Through  the  gorge  of  this  glen  tliey  found  access  to  a  black 
bog,  of  tremendous  extent,  full  of  large  pit-holes,  which  they 
traversed  with  great  difficulty  and  some  danger,  by  tracks 
which  no  one  but  a  Highlander  could  have  followed.  The  path 
itself,  or  rather  the  portion  of  more  solid  ground  on  which  the 
travellers  half  walked,  half  waded,  was  rough,  broken,  and  in 
many  places  quaggy  and  unsound.  Sometimes  the  ground  was 
so  completely  unsafe,  that  it  was  necessary  to  spring  from  one 
hillock  to  another,  the  space  between  being  incapable  of  bear- 
ing the  human  weight.  This  was  an  easy  matter  to  the  High- 
landers, who  wore  thin-soled  brogues  fit  for  the  purpose,  and 
moved  with  a  peculiar  springing  step ;  but  Edward  began  to 
find  the  exercise,  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed,  more  fa- 
tiguing than  he  expected.  The  lingering  twilight  served  to  show 
them  through  this  Serbonian  bog,  but  deserted  them  almost  to- 
tally at  the  bottom  of  a  steep  and  very  stony  hill,  which  it  was  the 
travellers'  next  toilsome  task  to  ascend.  The  night,  however, 
was  pleasant,  and  not  dark  ;  and  Waverley,  calling  up  mental 
energy  to  support  personal  fatigue,  held  on  his  march  gallantly, 
though  envying  in  his  heart  his  Highland  attendants,  who  con- 
tinued, without  a  symptom  of  unabated  vigor,  the  rapid  and 
swinging  pace,  or  rather  trot,  which,  according  to  his  computa- 
tion, had  already  brought  them  fifteen  miles  upon  their  journey. 
After  crossing  this  mountain,  and  descending  on  the  other 
side  towards  a  thick  wood,  Evan  Dhu  held  some  conference 
with  his  Highland  attendants,  in  consequence  of  which  Ed- 
ward's baggage  was  shifted  from  the  shoulders  of  the  ganwr 


WAVER  LEY, 


109 


keeper  to  those  of  one  of  the  gillies,  and  the  former  was  sent 
off  with  the  other  mountaineer  in  a  direction  different  from  that 
of  the  three  remaining  travellers.  On  asking  the  meaning'  of 
this  separation,  Waverley  was  told  that  the  Lowlander  must  go 
to  a  hamlet  about  three  miles  off  for  the  night ;  for  unless  it 
Was  some  very  particular  friend,  Donald  Bean  Lean,  the  worthy 
person  whom  they  supposed  to  be  possessed  of  the  cattle,  did 
not  much  approve  of  strangers  approaching  his  retreat.  This 
seemed  reasonable,  and  silenced  a  qualm  of  suspicion  which 
came  across  Edward's  mind,  when  he  saw  himself,  at  such  a 
place  and  such  an  hour,  deprived  of  his  only  Lowland  compan- 
ion. And  Evan  innnediately  afterwards  added,  "  that  indeed 
he  himself  had  better  get  forward,  and  announce  their  approach 
to  Donald  Bean  Lean,  as  the  arrival  of  a  stdier  roy  {xqq.  soldier), 
might  otherwise  be  a  disagreeable  surprise."  And  without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  in  jockey  phrase,  he  trotted  out,  and 
putting  himself  to  a  \^  -  round  pace,  was  out  of  sight  in  an 
instant. 

Waverley  was  now  left  to  his  own  meditations,  for  his  atten- 
dant with  the  battle-axe  spoke  very  little  English.  They  were 
traversing  a  thick,  and  as  it  seemed,  an  endless  wood  of  pines, 
and  consequently  the  path  was  altogether  indiscernible  in  the 
murky  darkness  which  surrounded  them.  The  Highlander, 
however,  seemed  to  trace  it  by  instinct,  without  the  hesitation 
of  a  moment,  and  Edward  followed  his  footsteps  as  close  as  he 
could. 

After  journeying  a  considerable  time  in  silence,  he  could  not 
help  asking,  "  Was  it  far  to  the  end  of  their  journey  ?  " 

"Ta  cove  was  tree,  four  mile  ;  but  as  Duinhe-wassel  was  a 
wee  taiglit,  Donald  could,  tat  is,  might — would — should  send 
ta  curragh." 

This  conveyed  no  information.  The  curragh  which  was 
promised  might  be  a  man,  a  horse,  a  cart,  or  chaise  ;  and  no 
more  could  be  got  from  the  man  with  the  battle-axe,  but  a  repe 
tition  of  "  Aich  aye  !  ta  curragh." 

But  in  a  short  time  Edward  began  to  conceive  his  meaning, 
when,  issuing  from  the  wood,  he  found  himself  on  the  banks  of 
a  large  river  or  lake,  where  his  conductor  gave  him  to  under- 
stand they  must  sit  down  for  a  little  while.  The  moon,  which 
now  began  to  rise,  showed  obscurely  the  expanse  of  water  which 
spread  before  them,  and  the  shapeless  ancl  indistinct  forms  of 
mountains,  with  which  it  seemed  to  be  surrounded.  The  cool, 
and  yet  mild  air  of  the  summer  night,  refreshed  Waverley  after 
his  rapid  and  toilsome  walk ;  and  the  perfume  which  it  wafted 


ti^o  WAVERLEY. 

from  the  birch  trees,  bathed  in  the  evening  dew,  was  exquisitelj 
fragrant.-*^ 

He  had  now  time  to  give  himself  up  to  the  full  romance  of 
his  situation.  Here  he  sat  on  the  banks  of  an  unknown  lake, 
under  the  guidance  of  a  wild  native,  whose  language  was  un« 
known  to  him,  on  a  visit  to  the  den  of  some  renowned  outlaw, 
a  second  Robin  Hood,  perhaps,  or  Adam  o'  Gordon,  and  that 
at  deep  midnight,  through  scenes  of  difficulty  and  toil,  separated 
from  his  attendant,  left  by  his  guide  : — What  a  variety  of  inci- 
dents for  the  exercise  of  a  romantic  imagination,  and  all  en- 
hanced by  the  solemn  feeling  of  uncertainty  at  least,  if  not  of 
danger !  The  only  circumstance  which  assorted  ill  with  the 
rest,  was  the  cause  of  his  journey — the  Baron's  milk  cows!  this 
degrading  incident  he  kept  in  the  back  ground. 

While  wrapt  in  these  dreams  of  imagination,  his  companion 
gently  touched  him,  and,  pointing  in  a  direction  nearly  straight 
across  the  lake,  said,  "  Yon's  ta  cove."  A  small  point  of  light 
was  seen  to  twinkle  in  the  direction  in  which  he  pointed,  and 
gradually  increasing  in  size  and  lustre,  seemed  to  flicker  like  a 
meteor  upon  the  verge  of  the  horizon.  While  Edward  watched 
this  phenomenon,  the  distant  dash  of  oars  was  heard.  The 
measured  sound  approached  near  and  more  near,  and  presently 
a  loud  whistle  was  heard  in  the  same  direction.  His  friend  with 
the  battle-axe  immediately  whistled  clear  and  shrill,  in  reply  to 
the  signal,  and  a  boat  manned  with  four  or  five  Highlanders, 
pushed  for  the  little  inlet,  near  which  Edward  was  sitting.  He 
advanced  to  meet  them  with  his  attendant,  was  immediately  as- 
sisted into  a  boat  by  the  officious  attention  of  two  stout  moun- 
taineers, and  had  no  sooner  seated  himself  than  they  resumed 
their  oars,  and  began  to  row  across  the  lake  with  great  rapidity. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH. 

THE  HOLD  OF  A  HIGHLAND  ROBBER. 

The  party  preserved  silence,  interrupted  only  by  the  monot- 
onous and  murmured  chant  of  a  Gaelic  song,  sung  in  a  kind 
of  low  recitative  by  the  steersman,  and  by  the  dash  of  the 
oars,  which  the  notes  seemed  to  regulate,  as  they  dipped  to 
them  in  cadence.  The  light,  which  they  now  approached  more 
nearly,  assumed  a  broader,  redder,  and  more  irregular  splendoc 


WAVERLEr.  Ill 

ft  appeared  plainly  to  be  a  large  fire,  but  whether  kindled  upon 
an  island  or  the  main  land,  Edward  could  not  determine.  As 
he  saw  it,  the  red  glaring  orb  seemed  to  rest  on  the  very  sur- 
face of  the  lake  itself,  and  resembled  the  fiery  vehicle  in  which 
the  Evil  Genius  of  an  oriental  tale  traverses  land  and  sea. 
They  approached  nearer,  and  the  light  of  the  fire  sufficed  to 
show  that  it  was  kindled  at  the  bottom  of  a  huge  dark  crag  oi 
rock,  rising  abruptly  from  the  very  edge  of  the  water ;  its  front, 
changed  by  the  reflection  to  dusky  red,  formed  a  strange, 
and  even  awful  contrast  to  the  banks  around,  which  were  from 
time  to  time  faintly  and  partially  illuminG,ted  by  pallid  moon- 
light. 

The  boat  now  neared  the  shore,  and  Edward  could  discovei 
that  this  large  fire,  amply  supplied  with  branches  of  pine-wood 
by  two  figures,  who,  in  the  red  reflection  of  its  light,  appeared 
like  demons,  was  kindled  in  the  jaws  of  a  lofty  cavern,  into 
which  an  inlet  from  the  lake  seemed  to  advance ;  and  he  con- 
jectured, which  was  indeed  true,  that  the  fire  had  been  lighted 
as  a  beacon  to  the  boatmen  on  their  return.  They  rowed  right 
for  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  then,  shipping  their  oars,  per- 
mitted the  boat  to  enter  in  obedience  to  the  impulse  which  it 
had  received.  The  skiff  passed  the  little  point,  or  platform,  of 
rock,  on  which  the  fire  was  blazing,  and  running  about  two 
boats'  length  farther,  stopped  where  the  cavern  (for  it  was 
already  arched  overhead)  ascended  from  the  water  by  five  oi 
six  broad  ledges  of  rocks,  so  easy  and  regular  that  they  might 
be  termed  natural  steps.  At  this  moment  a  quantity  of  water 
was  suddenly  flung  upon  the  fire,  which  sunk  w^ith  a  hissing 
noise,  and  with  it  disappeared  the  light  it  had  hitherto  afforded. 
Four  or  five  active  arms  lifted  Waverley  out  of  the  boat,  placed 
him  on  his  feet,  and  almost  carried  him  into  the  recesses  of 
the  cave.  He  made  a  few  paces  in  darkness,  guided  in  this 
manner ;  and  advancing  towards  a  hum  of  voices,  which 
seemed  to  sound  from  the  centre  of  the  rock,  at  an  acute  turn 
Donald  Bean  Lean  and  his  whole  establishment  were  before  his 
eyes. 

The  interior  of  the  cave,  which  here  rose  very  high,  was 
illuminated  by  torches  made  of  pine-tree,  which  emitted  a  bright 
and  bickering  light,  attended  by  a  strong,  though  not  unpleas- 
ant odor.  Their  light  was  assisted  by  the  read  glare  of  a  large 
charcoal  fire,  round  which  were  seated  five  or  six  armed  High- 
landers, while  others  were  indistinctly  seen  couched  on  their 
plaids,  in  the  more  remote  recesses  of  the  cavern.  In  one  large 
aperture,   which   the    robber  facetiously  called  his  s^ence  (pi 


119  IVAVERLEY. 

pantry),  there  hung  by  the  heels  the  carcasses  of  a  sheep,  or  ew8 
and  two  cows  lately  slaughtered.  The  principal  inhabitant  ot 
this  singular  mansion,  attended  by  Evan  Dhu  as  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  came  forward  to  meet  his  guest,  totally  different  in 
appearance  and  manner  from  what  his  imagination  had  antici- 
pated. The  profession  which  he  followed — the  wilderness  in 
which  he  dwelt — the  wild  warrior  forms  that  surrounded  him, 
were  all  calculated  to  inspire  terror.  From  such  accompani- 
ments, Waverley  prepared  himself  to  meet  a  stern,  gigantic, 
ferocious  figure,  such  as  Salvator  would  have  chosen  to  be  the 
central  object  of  a  group  of  banditti.^ 

Donald  Bean  Lean  was  the  xexy  reverse  of  all  these.  He 
was  thin  in  person  and  low  in  stature,  with  light  sandy-colored 
hair  and  small  pale  features,  from  which  he  derived  his  agnomen 
of  Bean,  or  white  ;  and  although  his  form  was  light,  well  propor- 
tioned, and  active,  he  appeared,  on  the  whole,  rather  a  diminu- 
tive and  insignificant  figure.  He  had  served  in  some  inferor 
capacity  in  the  French  army,  and  in  order  to  receive  his  English 
visitor  in  great  form,  and  probably  meaning,  in  his  way,  to  pay 
him  a  compliment,  he  had  laid  aside  the  Highland  dress  for  the 
time,  to  put  on  an  old  blue  and  red  uniform,  and  a  feathered 
hat,  in  which  he  was  far  from  showing  to  advantage,  and  indeed 
looked  so  incongruous,  compared  w-ith  all  around  him,  that 
Waverley  would  have  been  tempted  to  laugh,  had  laughter  been 
either  civil  or  safe.  The  robber  received  Captain  Waverley 
viath  a  profusion  of  French  politeness  and  Scottish  hospitality, 
seemed  perfectly  to  know  his  name  and  connections,  and  to  be 
particularly  acquainted  with  his  uncle's  political  principles.  On 
these  he  bestowed  great  applause,  to  which  Waverley  judged  it 
prudent  to  make  a  very  general  reply. 

Being  placed  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  charcoal 
fire,  the  heat  of  which  the  season  rendered  oppressive,  a  strap- 
ping Highland  damsel  placed  before  Waverley,  Evan,  and 
Donald  Bean,  three  cogues,  or  wooden  vessels  composed  of 
staves  and  hoops,  containing  eanaruich,  a  sort  of  strong  soup  ** 
made  out  of  a  particular  part  of  the  inside  of  the  beeves.  After 
this  refreshment,  which  though  coarse,  fatigue  and  hunger  ren- 
dered palatable,  steaks,  roasted  on  the  coals,  were  supplied  in 
liberal  abundance,  and  disappeared  before  Evan  Dhu  and  their 
host  with  a  promptitude  that  seemed  like  magic,  and  astonished 
Waverley,  who  was  much  puzzled  to  reconcile  their  voracity 
with  what  he  had  heard  of  the  abstemiousness  of  the  High- 
landers. He  was  ignorant  that  this  abstinence  was  with  the 
kwer  ranks  wholly  compulsory,  and  that,  like  some  animals  ol 


WAVERLEY.  II3 

prey,  those  who  practice  it  were  usually  gifted  with  the  power  of 
indemnifying  themselves  to  good  purpose,  when  chance  threw 
plenty  in  their  way.  The  whiskey  came  forth  in  abundance  to 
crown  the  cheer.  The  Highlanders  drank  it  copiously  and 
undiluted  ;  but  Edward,  having  mixed  a  little  with  water,  did 
not  find  it  so  palatable  as  to  invite  him  to  repeat  the  draught. 
Their  host  bewailed  himself  exceedingly  that  he  could  offer  him 
no  wine  :  "  Had  he  but  known  four-and-twenty  hours  before,  he 
would  have  had  some,  had  it  been  within  the  circle  of  forty 
miles  round  him.  But  no  gentleman  could  do  more  to  show 
his  sense  of  the  honor  of  a  visit  from  another,  than  to  offer  him 
the  best  cheer  his  house  afforded.  Where  there  are  no  bushes 
there  can  be  no  nuts,  and  the  way  of  those  you  live  with  is  that 
you  must  follow." 

He  went  on  regretting  to  Evan  Dhu  the  death  of  an  aged 
man,  Donnacha  an  Amrigh,  or  Duncan  with  the  Cap,  "  a  gifted 
seer,"  who  foretold,  through  the  second  sight,  visitors  of  every 
description  who  haunted  their  dwelling,  whether  as  friends  or 
foes. 

"  Is  not  his  son  Malcolm  iaishatr  (a  second-sighted  pe^ 
son)  ?  "  asked  Evan. 

"  Nothing  equal  to  his  father,"  replied  Donald  Bean.  *'  He 
told  us  the  other  day  we  were  to  see  a  great  gentleman  riding 
on  a  horse,  and  there  came  nobody  that  whole  day  but  Shemus 
Beg,  the  blind  harper,  with  his  dog.  Another  time  he  adver- 
tised us  of  a  wedding  and  behold  it  proved  a  funeral ;  and  on 
the  creagh,  when  he  foretold  to  us  we  should  bring  home  a 
hundred  head  of  horned  cattle,  we  grippit  nothing  but  a  fat 
Baillie  of  Perth." 

From  this  discourse  he  passed  to  the  political  and  military 
State  of  the  country  ;  and  Waverley  was  astonished,  and  even 
alarmed,  to  find  a  person  of  this  description  so  accurately  ac- 
quainted with  the  strength  of  the  various  garrisons  and 
regiments  quartered  north  of  the  Tay.  He  even  mentioned 
the  exact  number  of  recruits  who  had  joined  Waverley's  troop 
from  his  uncle's  estate,  and  observed  they  were  frdty  meUy 
meaning,  not  handsome,  but  stout  warlike  fellows.  He  put 
Waverley  in  mind  of  one  or  two  minute  circumstances  which 
had  happened  at  a  general  review  of  the  regiment,  which  satis- 
fied him  that  the  robber  had  been  an  eye-witness  of  it ;  and 
Evan  Dhu  having  by  this  time  retired  from  the  conversation, 
and  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  plaid  to  take  some  repose, 
Donald  asked  Edward  in  a  very  significant  manner,  whether 
S«  had  nothing  particular  to  say  to  him. 


114 


WAVER  LEY. 


Waverley,  surprised  and  somewhat  startled  at  this  question 
from  such  a  character,  answered  he  had  no  motive  in  visiting 
him  but  curiosity  to  see  his  extraordinary  place  of  residence. 
Donald  Bean  Lean  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  said,  with  a  significant  nod,  "  You  might  as 
well  have  confided  in  me ;  I  am  as  much  worthy  of  trust  as 
either  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  or  Vich  Ian  Vohr  : — but  you 
are  equally  welcome  to  my  house." 

Waverley  felt  an  involuntarj'  shudder  creep  over  him  at 
the  mysterious  language  held  by  this  outlawed  and  lawless 
bandit,  which,  in  despite  of  his  attempts  to  master  it,  deprived 
him  of  the  power  to  ask  the  meaning  of  his  insinuations.  A 
heath  pallet,  with  the  flowers  stuck  uppermost,  had  been  pre- 
pared for  him  in  a  recess  of  the  cave,  and  here,  covered  with 
such  spare  plaids  as  could  be  mustered,  he  lay  for  some  time 
watching  the  motions  of  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  cavern. 
Small  parties  of  two  or  three  entered  or  left  the  place  without 
any  other  ceremony  than  a  few  words  in  Gaelic  to  the  principal 
outlaw,  and,  when  he  fell  asleep,  to  a  tall  Highlander  who  acted 
as  his  lieutenant,  and  seemed  to  keep  watch  during  his  repose. 
Those  who  entered,  seemed  to  have  returned  from  some  excur- 
sion, of  which  they  reported  the  success,  and  went  without 
farther  ceremony  to  the  larder,  where  cutting  with  their  dirks 
their  rations  from  the  carcasses  which  were  there  suspended, 
they  proceeded  to  broil  and  eat  them  at  their  own  pleasure 
and  leisure.  The  liquor  was  under  strict  regulation,  being 
served  out  either  by  Donald  himself,  his  lieutenant,  or  the 
strapping  Highland  girl  aforesaid,  who  was  the  only  female 
that  appeared.  Tlie  allowance  of  whiskey,  however,  would  have 
appeared  prodigal  to  any  but  Highlanders,  who  living  entirely 
in  the  open  air,  and  in  a  very  moist  climate,  can  consume  great 
quantities  of  ardent  spirits  without  the  usual  baneful  effects 
either  upon  the  brain  or  constitution. 

At  length  the  fluctuating  groups  began  to  swim  before  the 
eyes  of  our  hero  as  they  gradually  closed  j  nor  did  he  re-open 
them  till  the  morning  sun  was  high  on  the  lake  without, 
though  there  was  but  a  faint  and  glimmering  twilight  in  thfi 
recesses  of  Uaimh  an  Ri,  or  the  King's  cavern,  as  the  abode 
of  Donald  Bean  Lean  was  proudly  denominatedL 


WAVEHLEY.  x\l 

CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH. 

WAVERLEY   PROCEEDS    ON   HIS  JOURNEY. 

When  Edward  had  collected  his  scattered  recollection,  he 
Was  surprised  to  observe  the  cavern  totally  deserted.  Having 
arisen  and  put  his  dress  in  some  order,  he  looked  more  accu- 
rately around  him,  but  all  was  still  solitary.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  decayed  brands  of  the  fire,  now  sunk  into  gray  ashes, 
and  the  remnants  of  the  festival,  consisting  of  bones  half 
burned  and  half  gnawed,  and  an  empty  keg  or  two,  there  re- 
mained no  traces  of  Donald  and  his  band.  When  Waverley 
sallied  forth  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  he  perceived  that  the 
point  of  rock,  on  which  remained  the  marks  of  last  night's 
beacon,  was  accessible  by  a  small  path,  either  natural,  or 
roughly  hewn  in  the  rock,  along  the  little  inlet  of  water  which 
ran  a  few  yards  up  into  the  cavern,  where,  as  in  a  wet-dock, 
the  skiff  which  brought  him  there  the  night  before,  was  still 
lying  moored.  When  he  reached  the  small  projecting  platform 
on  which  the  beacon  had  been  established,  he  would  have 
believed  his  farther  progress  by  land  impossible,  only  that  it 
was  scarce  probable  but  what  the  inhabitants  of  the  cavern 
had  some  mode  of  issuing  from  it  otherwise  than  by  the  lake. 
Accordingly,  he  soon  observed  three  or  four  shelving  steps,  or 
ledges  of  rock,  at  the  very  extremity  of  the  little  platform  ; 
and  making  use  of  them  as  a  staircase,  he  clambered  by 
their  means  around  the  projecting  shoulder  of  the  crag 
on  which  the  cavern  opened,  and,  descending  with  some 
difficulty  on  the  other  side,  he  gained  the  wild  and  precipitous 
shores  of  a  Highland  loch,  about  four  miles  in  length,  and  a 
mile  and  a  half  across,  surrounded  by  heathy  and  savage 
mountains,  on  the  crests  of  which  the  morning  mist  was  still 
sleeping. 

Looking  back  to  the  place  from  which  he  came,  he  could 
not  help  admiring  the  address  which  had  adopted  a  retreat  of 
such  seclusion  and  secrecy.  The  rock,  round  the  shoulder  ot 
which  he  had  turned  by  a  few  imperceptible  notches,  that 
barely  afforded  place  for  the  foot,  seemed,  in  looking  back 
upon  it,  a  huge  precipice,  which  barred  all  farther  passage  by 
the  shores  of  the  lake  in  that  direction.  There  could  be  no 
possibility,  the  breadth  of  the  lake  considered,  of  descrying 
the  entrance  of  the  narrow  and  low-browed  cave  from  the 


Il6  WAVER  LEV. 

Other  side  ;  so  that,  unless  the  retreat  had  been  sought  fof 
with  boats,  or  disclosed  by  treachery,  it  might  be  a  safe  and 
secret  residence  to  its  garrison  as  \o\\^  as  they  were  supplied 
with  provisions.  Having  satisfied  his  curiosity  in  these  partic- 
ulars, Waverley  looked  around  for  Evan  Dhu  and  his  attend- 
ant, who,  he  rightly  judged,  would  be  at  no  great  distance, 
whatever  might  have  become  of  Donald  Bean  Lean  and  his 
party,  whose  mode  of  life  was,  of  course,  liable  to  sudden 
migrations  of  abode.  Accordingly,  at  the  distance  of  about 
half  a  mile,  he  beheld  a  Highlander  (Evan  apparently)  angling 
in  the  lake,  with  another  attending  him,  whom,  from  the  wea- 
pon which  he  shouldered,  he  recognized  for  his  friend  with  the 
battle-axe. 

Much  nearer  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave  he  heard  the  notes 
of  a  lively  Gaelic  song,  guided  by  which,  in  a  sunny  recess, 
shaded  by  a  glittering  birch-tree,  and  carpeted  with  a  bank  of 
firm  white  sand,  he  found  the  damsel  of  the  cavern,  whose  lay 
had  already  reached  him,  busy,  to  the  best  of  her  power,  in  ar- 
ranging to  advantage  a  morning  repast  of  rnilk,  eggs,  barley- 
bread,  fresh  butter,  and  honeN-comb.  The  poor  girl  had  already 
made  a  circuit  of  four  miles  that  morning  in  search  of  the  eggs, 
of  the  meal  which  baked  her  cakes,  and  of  the  other  materials 
of  th  ebreakfast,  being  all  delicacies  which  she  had  to  beg  or 
borrow  from  distant  cottagers.  The  followers  of  Donald  Bean 
Lean  used  little  food  except  the  flesh  of  the  animals  which 
they  drove  away  from  the  Lowlands  ;  bread  itself  was  a  deli- 
cacy seldom  thought  of,  because  hard  to  be  obtained,  and  all 
the  domestic  accommodations  of  milk,  poultr}%  butter,  &c., 
were  out  of  the  question  in  this  Scythian  camp.  Yet  it  must 
not  be  omitted,  that  although  Alice  had  occupied  a  part  of  the 
morning  in  providing  those  accommodations  for  her  guest 
which  the  cavern  did  not  afford,  she  had  secured  time  also  to 
arrange  her  own  person  in  her  best  trim.  Her  finery  was 
very  simple.  A  short  russet-colored  jacket,  and  a  petticoat, 
of  scanty  longitude,  was  her  whole  dress  ;  but  these  were  clean, 
and  neatly  arranged.  A  piece  of  scarlet  embroidered  cloth, 
called  the  snood,  confined  her  hair,  which  fell  over  it  in  a  pro 
fusion  of  rich  dark  curls.  The  scarlet  plaid,  which  formed 
part  of  her  dress,  was  laid  aside,  that  it  might  not  impede  her 
activity  in  attending  the  stranger.  I  should  forget  Alice's 
proudest  ornament,  were  I  to  omit  mentioning  a  part  of  gold 
ear-rings,  and  a  golden  rosary  which  her  father  (for  she  was 
the  daughter  of  Donald  Bean  Lean)  had  brought  from  France, 
the  plunder  probably  of  some  battle  or  storm 


WAVERLEY.  ^  xxf 

Her  form,  though  rather  large  for  her  years,  was  very  well 
proportioned,  and  her  demeanor  jiad  a  natural  and  rustic  grace, 
with  nothing  of  the  sheepishness  of  an  ordinary  peasant.  The 
smiles,  displaying  a  row  of  teeth  of  exquisite  whiteness,  and 
the  laughing  eyes,  with  which,  in  dumb  show,  she  gave  Wa- 
verley  that  morning  greeting  which  she  wanted  English  words 
to  express,  might  have  been  interpreted  by  a  coxcor.^b,  or  per- 
haps by  a  young  soldier,  who,  without  being  such,  was  conscious 
of  a  handsome  person,  as  meant  to  convey  more  than  the  cour- 
tesy of  an  hostess.  Nor  do  I  take  it  upon  me  to  say  that  the 
little  wild  mountaineer  would  have  welcomed  any  staid  old 
gentleman  advanced  in  life,  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  for 
example,  with  the  cheerful  pains  which  she  bestowed  upon 
Edward's  accommodation.  She  seemed  eager  to  place  him  by 
the  meal  which  she  had  so  sedulously  arranged,  and  to  which 
she  now  added  a  few  bunches  of  cranberries,  gathered  in  an 
adjacent  morass.  Having  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him 
seated  at  his  breakfast,  she  placed  herself  demurely  upon  a 
stone  /It  a  few  yards  distar^ce,  and  appeared  to  watch  with  great 
complacency  for  some  opportunity  of  serving  him. 

Evan  and  his  attendant  now  returned  slowly  along  the  beach, 
the  latter  bearing  a  large  salmon-trout,  the  produce  of  the 
morning's  sport,  together  with  the  angling-rod,  while  Evan 
strolled  forward  with  an  easy,  self-satisfied,  and  important  gait 
towards  the  spot  where  Waverley  was  so  agreeably  employed  at 
the  breakfast-table.  After  morning  greetings  had  passed  on 
both  sides,  and  Evan,  looking  at  Waverley,  had  said  something 
in  Gaelic  to  Alice,  which  made  her  laugh,  yet  color  up  to  her 
eyes,  through  a  complexion  well  embrowned  by  sun  and  wind, 
Evan  intimated  his  commands  that  the  fish  should  be  prepared 
for  breakfast.  A  spark  from  the  lock  of  his  pistol  produced  a 
light,  and  a  few  withered  fir  branches  were  quickly  in  flame, 
and  as  speedily  reduced  to  hot  embers,  on  which  the  trout  was 
broiled  in  large  slices.  To  crown  the  repast,  Evan  produced 
from  the  pocket  of  his  short  jerkin,  a  large  scallop  shell,  and 
from  under  the  folds  of  his  plaid,  a  ram's  horn  full  of  whiskey. 
Of  this  he  took  a  copious  dram,  observing,  he  had  already  taken 
his  morning  with  Donald  Bean  Lean,  before  his  departure ;  he 
offered  the  same  cordial  to  Alice  and  to  Edward,  which  they 
both  declined.  With  the  bounteous  air  of  a  lord,  Evan  then 
proffered  the  scallop  to  Dugald  Mahony,  his  attendant,  who, 
without  waiting  to  be  asked  a  second  time,  drank  it  off  with 
great  gusto.  Evan  then  prepared  to  move  towards  the  boat, 
uiviting  Waverley  to  attend  him.     Meanwhile,  Alice  had  madt 


Il8  WAVERLEY, 

op  in  a  small  basket  ^hat  she  thought  worth  removing,  and 
flinging  her  plaid  around  her,  she  advanced  up  to  Edward,  and 
with  the  utmost  simplicity,  taking  hold  of  his  hand,  offered  her 
cheek  to  his  salute,  dropping  at  the  same  time,  her  little  curt- 
sey. Evan,  who  was  esteemed  a  wag  among  the  mountain  fair, 
advanced,  as  if  to  secure  a  similar  favor ;  but  Alice,  snatching 
up  her  basket,  escaped  up  the  rocky  bank  as  fleetly  as  a  roe, 
and,  turning  round  and  laughing,  called  something  out  to  him 
in  Gaelic,  which  he  answered  in  the  same  tone  and  language ; 
then  waving  her  hand  to  Edward,  she  resumed  her  road,  and 
was  soon  lost  among  the  thickets,  though  they  continued  for 
some  time  to  hear  her  lively  carol,  as  she  Droceeded  gayly  on  her 
solitary  journey. 

They  now  again  entered  the  gorge  of  the  cavern,  and  step- 
ping into  the  boat,  the  Highlander  pushed  off,  and,  taking 
advantage  of  the  morning  breeze,  hoisted  a  clumsy  sort  of  sail, 
while  Evan  assumed  the  helm,  directing  their  course,  as  it 
appeared  to  Waverley,  rather  higher  up  the  lake  than  towards 
the  place  of  his  embarkation  on  the  preceding  night.  As  they 
glided  along  the  silver  mirror,  Evan  opened  the  conversation 
with  a  panegyric  upon  Alice,  who,  he  said,  was  both  canny  and 
fendy ;  and  was,  to  the  boot  of  all  that,  the  best  dancer  of  a 
Strathspey  in  the  whole  strath.  Edward  assented  to  her  praises 
so  far  as  he  understood  them,  yet  could  not  help  regretting  that 
she  was  condemned  to  such  a  perilous  and  dismal  life. 

*'Oich!  for  that,"  said  Evan,  "there  is  nothing  in  Perth* 
shire  that  she  need  want,  if  she  ask  her  father  to  fetch  it,  unless 
it  be  too  hot  or  too  heavy." 

"  But  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  cattle-stealer, — a  common 
thief  !  " 

"  Common  thief  ! — No  such  thing ;  Donald  Bean  Lean  never 
lifted  Xq.ss  than  a  drove  in  his  life." 

"  Do  you  call  him  an  uncommon  thief,  then  ?  " 

"  No — he  that  steals  a  cow  from  a  poor  widow,  or  a  stirk 
from  a  cottar,  is  a  thief ;  he  that  lift's  a  drove  from  a  Sassenach 
laird  is  a  gentleman-drover.  And,  besides,  to  take  a  tree  from 
the  forest,  a  salmon  from  the  river,  a  deer  from  the  hill,  or  a 
cow  from  a  Lowland  strath,  is  what  no  Highlander  need  ever 
think  shame  upon." 

"  But  what  can  this  end  in  were  he  taken  in  such  an  appro- 
priation ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  he  would  die  for  the  law^  as  many  a  pretty  maa 
has  done  before  him." 

"Die  for  the  law  1" 


WAVERLEY.  H^ 

«*  Ay ;  that  is,  with  the  law,  or  by  the  law ;  be  strapped  up 
on  the /^/«^  gallows  of  Crieff,^Mvhere  his  father  died,  and  his 
goodsire  died,  and  where  I  hope  he'll  live  to  die  himsel,  if  he's 
not  shot,  or  slashed,  in  a  creagh." 

"  You  hope  such  a  death  for  your  friend,  Evan  ? "   ^ 

"  And  that  do  I  e'en  ;  would  you  have  me  wish  him  to  die 
on  a  bundle  of  wet  straw  in  yon  den  of  his,  like  a  mangy  tyke  ?  '* 

"  But  what  becomes  of  Alice,  then  ?  " 

**  Troth,  if  such  an  accident  were  to  happen,  as  her  fathei 
would  not  need  her  help  ony  langer,  I  ken  nought  to  hinder  me 
to  marry  her  mysel." 

"  Gallantly  resolved,"  said  Edward  ;  "  but,  in  the  meanwhile, 
Evan,  what  has  your  father-in-law  (that  shall  be,  if  he  have  the 
good  fortune  to  be  hanged)  done  with  the  Baron's  cattle  ? " 

"  Oich,"  answered  Evan,  •'  they  were  all  trudging  before  your 
lad  and  Allan  Kennedy  before  the  sun  blinked  over  Ben-Lawers 
this  morning ;  and  they'll  be  in  the  pass  of  Bally-Brough  by  this 
time,  in  their  way  back  to  the  parks  of  Tully-Veolan,  all  but 
two,  that  were  unhappily  slaughtered  before  I  got  last  night  to 
(Jaimh  an  Ri," 

•'  And  where  are  ,we  going,  Evan,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to 
Ask  ?  "  said  Waverley. 

"Where  would  you  be  ganging,  but  to  the  laird's  ain  house 
of  Glennaquoich  ?  Ye  would  not  think  to  be  in  his  country 
without  ganging  to  see  him  ?  It  would  be  as  much  as  a  man's 
life's  worth." 

"  And  are  we  far  from  Glennaquoich  ?  " 

"  But  five  bits  of  miles  ;  and  Vich  I^o  Vohr  will  meet  us.** 

In  about  half  an  hour  they  reached  the  upper  end  of  the 
lake,  where,  after  landing  Waverley,  the  two  Highlanders  drew 
the  boat  into  a  little  creek  among  thick  flags  and  reeds,  where 
it  lay  perfectly  concealed.  The  oars  they  put  in  another  place 
of  concealment,  both  for  the  use  of  Donald  Bean  Lean  probably, 
when  his  occasions  should  next  bring  him  to  that  place. 

The  travellers  followed  for  some  time  a  delightful  opening 
into  the  hills,  down  which  a  little  brook  found  its  way  to  the 
lake.  When  they  had  pursued  their  walk  a  short  distance, 
Waverley  renewed  his  questions  about  their  host  of  the  cavern, 

"  Does  he  always  reside  in  that  cave  ?  " 

*'  Out,  no  I  it's  past  the  skill  of  man  to  tell  where  he's  to  be 
found  at  a'  times  :  there's  not  a  dern  nook,  or  cove,  or  corri,  in 
the  whole  country,  that  he's  not  acquainted  with." 

"  And  do  others  beside  your  master  shelter  him  ?  " 

**My  master? — My  master  is  in  Heaven,"  answered  Evai^ 


I  to  WAVERLEY. 

haughtily ;  and  then  immediately  resuming  his  usual  civiif  tv  of 
manner,  "but  you  mean  my  chief ;  no,  he  does  not  sheite*' 
Donald  Bean  Lean,  nor  any  that  are  like  him  ;  he  only  allow* 
him  (with  a  smile)  wood  and  water." 

"  No  great  boon,  I  should  think,  Evan,  when  both  seem  fe* 
be  very  plenty." 

"  Ah !  but  ye  dinna  see  through  it.  When  I  say  wood  and 
water,  I  mean  the  loch  and  the  land ;  and  I  fancy  Donald 
would  be  put  till't  if  the  laird  were  to  look  for  him  wi'  three- 
score men  in  the  wood  of  Kailychat  yonder;  and  if  our  boats, 
with  a  score  or  twa"mair,  were  to  comedown  the  loch  to  Uaimh 
an  Ri,  headed  by  mysel  or  ony  other  pretty  man." 

"  But  suppose  a  strong  party  came  against  him  from  the  • 
Low  Countr}',  would  not  your  chief  defend  him?" 

"  Na,  he  would  not  ware  the  spark  of  a  flint  for  him — if  they 
eame  with  the  law." 

"  And  what  must  Donald  do,  then  ? " 

"  He  behoved  to  rid  this  country  of  himsel,  and  fall  back, 
it  may  be,  over  the  mount  upon  Letter  Scriven." 

"  And  if  he  were  pursued  to  that  place  ? " 

"  I'se  warrant  he  would  go  to  his  cousin's  at  Rannoch." 

"Well,  but  if  they  followed  him  to  Rannoch?" 

"  That,"  quoth  Evan,  "  is  beyond  all  belief ;  and,  indeed,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  there  durst  not  a  Lowlander  in  all  Scotland 
follow  the  fray  a  gun-shot  beyond  Bally-Brough,  unless  he  had 
the  help  of  the  Sidier  Dhu.'* 

"  Whom  do  you  call  so  ?  " 

"  The  Sidier  Dhu  ?  the  black  soldier ;  that  is  what  they 
called  the  independent  companies  that  were  raised  to  keep 
peace  and  law  in  the  Highlands.  Vich  Ian  Vohr  commanded 
one  of  them  for  five  years,  and  I  was  serjeant  myself,  I  shall 
warrant  ye.  They  call  them  Sidier  D/tu,  because  they  wear  the 
tartans,  as  they  call  your  men — King  George's  men — Sidier 
Ro}\  or  red  soldiers." 

"  Well,  but  when  you  were  in  King  George's  pay,  Evan, 
you  were  surely  King  George's  soldiers  ? " 

"  Troth,  and  you  must  ask  Vich  Ian  Vohr  about  that ;  for 
we  are  for  his  king,  and  care  not  much  which  of  them  it  is.  At 
any  rate,  nobody  can  say  we  are  King  George's  men  now,  when 
we  have  not  seen  his  pay  this  twelvemonth." 

This  last  argument  admitted  of  no  reply,  nor  did  Edward 
attempt  any :  he  rather  chose  to  brink  back  the  discourse  to 
Donald  Bean  Lean.  "  Does  Donald  confine  himself  to  cattle, 
or  does  he  /?/"/,  as  you  call  it,  anything  else  that  comes  in  his 

way?** 


WAVERLEY.  tff 

"  Troth,  he's  nae  nice  body,  and  ne'h  ^iisl  tav  onythina 
but  most  readily  cattle,  horse,  or  live  Chrishans  >  for  sneep  are 
slow  of  travel,  and  inside  plenisiiing:  is  cumbrous  to  carry,  and 

not  easy  to  put  away  for  siller  in  this  country." 

"  But  does  he  carry  off  men  and  women  ? " 

"  Out,  ay.  Did  not  ye  hearbim  speak  o'  the  Perth  Baillie? 
It  cost  that  body  five  hundred  mp rks  ere  he  got  to  the  south  o' 
Bally-Brough. — And  ance  Donald  nlayed  a  pretty  sport.^^  There 
was  to  be  a  biythe  bridal  between  the  lady  Cramfeezer,  in  the 
howe  o'  the  Mearns  (she  was  thp  auld  laird's  widow,  and  no 
sae  young  as  she  had  been  herseO,  and  young  Gilliewhackit, 
who  had  spent  his  heirship  and  movables,  like  a  gentleman,  at 
cock-matches,  bull-baitings,  horse-races,  and  the  like.  Now, 
Donald  Bean  Lean,  being  aware  that  the  bridegroom  was  in 
request,  and  wanting  to  cleik  the  cunzie  (that  is,  to  hook  the 
siller),  he  cannily  carried  off  Gilliewhackit  ae  night  when  he  was 
riding  dovering  hame  (wi'  the  malt  rather  abune  the  meal),  and 
with  the  help  of  his  gillies  he  gat  him  into  the  hills  with  the 
speed  of  light,  and  the  first  place  he  wakened  in  was  the  cove 
of  Uaimh  an  Ri.  So  there  was  old  to  do  about  ransoming  the 
bridegroom  ;  for  Donald  would  not  lower  a  farthing  of  a  thou- 
sand pounds  " 

"  The  devil ! " 

*'  Funds  Scottish,  ye  shall  understand.  And  the  lady  had 
not  the  siller  if  she  had  pawned  her  gown  ;  and  they  applied  to 
the  governor  o'  Stirling  Castle,  and  to  the  major  o'  the  Black 
Watch  J  and  the  governor  said,  it  was  ower  far  to  the  north- 
ward, and  out  of  his  district ;  and  the  major  said,  his  men  were 
gane  hame  to  the  shearing,  and  he  would  not  call  them  out  be- 
fore the  victual  was  got  in  for  all  the  Cramfeezers  in  Christen- 
dom, let  alane  the  Mearns,  for  that  it  would  prejudice  the 
country.  And  in  the  mean  while  ye'll  no  hinder  Gilliewhackit 
to  take  the  small-pox.  There  was  not  the  doctor  in  Perth  or 
Stirling  would  look  near  the  poor  lad,  and  I  cannot  blame 
them  ;  for  Donald  had  been  misguggled  by  ane  of  these  doctors 
about  Paris,  and  he  swore  he  would  fling  the  first  mto  the  loch 
that  he  catched  beyond  the  Pass.  However,  some  cailliachs 
(that  is,  old  women),  that  were  about  Donald's  hand,  nursed 
Gilliewhackit  sae  weel,  that  between  the  free  open  air  in  the 
cove  and  the  fresh  whey,  deil  an'  he  did  not  recover  may  be  as 
weel  as  if  he  had  been  closed  in  a  glazed  chamber  and  a  bed 
with  curtains,  and  fed  with  red  wine  and  white  meat.  And 
Donald  was  sae  vexed  about  it,  that  when  he  was  stout  and 
weel.  he  even  sent  him  free  home,  and  said  he  would  be  pleased 


tat  WAVERLEV 

with  onything  they  would  like  to  gie  him  for  the  plague  and 
trouble  which  he  had  about  Gilliewhackit  to  an  unkenn'd  de- 
gree»  And  I  cannot  tell  you  precisely  how  they  sorted  ;  but 
they  agreed  sae  right  that  Donald  was  invited  to  dance  at  the 
wedding  in  his  Highland  trews,  and  they  said  that  there  was 
never  sae  meikle  siller  clinked  in  his  purse  either  before  oi 
since.  And  to  the  boot  of  all  that,  Gilliewhackit  said,  that,  be 
the  evidence  what  it  liked,  if  he  had  the  luck  to  be  on  Donald's 
inquest,  he  would  bring  him  in  guilty  of  nothing  whatever,  un- 
less it  were  wilful  arson,  or  murder  under  trust." 

With  such  bald  and  disjointed  chat  Evan  went  on  illustra- 
ting the  existing  state  of  the  Highlands,  more  perhaps  to  the 
amusement  of  Waverley  than  that  of  our  readers.  At  length, 
after  having  marched  over  bank  and  brae,  moss  and  heather, 
Edward,  though  not  unacquainted  with  the  Scottish  liberality 
in  computing  distance,  began  to  think  that  Even's  five  miles 
were  nearly  doubled.  His  obser\'ation  on  the  large  measure 
which  the  Scottish  allowed  of  their  land,  in  comparison  to  the 
computation  of  their  money,  was  readily  answered  by  Evan, 
with  the  old  jest,  "  The  de'il  take  them  wha  have  the  least  pint 
Stoup."^^ 

And  now  the  report  of  a  gun  was  heard,  and  a  sportsman 
was  seen,  with  his  dogs  and  attendant,  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
glen.     "  Shough,"  said  Dugald  Mahony,  "  tat's  ta  Chief." 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Evan,  imperiously.  "  Do  you  think  he 
would  come  to  meet  a  Sassenach  duinhe-wassel,  in  such  a  way 
as  that  ?  " 

But  as  they  approached  a  little  nearer,  he  said,  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  mortification,  "  And  it  is  even  he  sure  enough,  and 
he  has  not  his  tail  on  after  all : — there  is  no  living  creature 
with  him  but  Galium  Beg." 

In  fact,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  of  whom  a  Frenchman  might  have 
said,  as  truly  as  of  any  man  in  the  Highlands,  '  Qiiil  connoii 
bkn  ses  g^ns,'  had  no  idea  of  raising  himself  in  the  eyes  of  an 
English  young  man  of  fortune,  by  appearing  with  a  retinue  of 
idle  Highlanders  disproportioned  to  the  occasion.  He  was 
well  aware  that  such  an  unnecessary  attendance  would  seem  to 
Edward  rather  ludicrous  than  respectable  ;  and  while  few  men 
were  more  attached  to  ideas  of  chieftainship  and  feudal  power, 
he  was,  for  that  very  reason,  cautious  of  exhibiting  external 
marks  of  dignity,  unless  at  the  time  and  in  the  manner  when 
thej  were  most  likely  to  produce  an  imposing  effect.  There- 
fore, although,  had  he  been  to  receive  a  brother  chieftain,  he 
Vipuld  probably  have  been  attended  by  all  that  retinue  which 


WAVERLEV. 


123 


Evan  described  with  so  much  unction,  he  judged  it  more 
respectable  to  advance  to  meet  Waverley  with  a  single  attendant, 
a  very  handsome  Highland  boy,  who  carried  his  master's  shoot* 
ing-pouch  and  his  broadsword,  without  which  he  seldom  went 
abroad. 

When  Fergus  and  Waverley  met,  the  latter  was  struck  with 
the  peculiar  grace  and  dignity  of  the  chieftain's  figure.  Above 
the  middle  size,  and  finely  proportioned,  the  Highland  dress, 
which  he  wore  in'  its  simplest  mode,  set  off  his  person  to  great 
advantage.  He  wore  the  trews  or  close  trowsers,  made  of  tar- 
tan, checked  scarlet  and  white ;  in  other  particulars,  his  dress 
strictly  resembled  Evan's,  excepting  that  he  liad  no  weapon 
save  a  dirk,  very  richly  mounted  with  silver.  His  page,  as  we 
have  said,  carried  his  claymore  ;  and  the  fowling-piece,  which 
he  held  in  his  hand,  seemed  only  designed  for  sport.  He  had 
shot  in  the  course  of  his  walk  some  young  wild-ducks,  as,  though 
dose-time  was  then  unknown,  the  broods  of  grouse  were  yet  too 
young  for  the  sportsman.  His  countenance  was  decidedly 
Scottish,  with  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  northern  physiognomy, 
but  yet  had  so  little  of  its  harshness  and  exaggeration,  that  it 
would  have  been  pronounced  in  any  country  extremely  hand- 
some. The  martial  air  of  the  bonnet,  with  a  single  eagle's 
feather  as  a  distinction,  added  much  to  the  manly  appearance 
of  his  head,  which  was  besides  ornamented  with  a  far  more 
natural  and  graceful  cluster  of  close  black  curls  than  ever  were 
expose  to  sale  in  Bond  Street. 

An  air  of  openness  and  affability  increased  the  favorable 
impression  derived  from  this  handsome  and  dignified  exterior. 
Yet  a  skilful  physiognomist  would  have  been  less  satisfied  with 
the  countenance  on  the  second  than  on  the  first  view.  The 
eye-brow  and  upper  lip  bespoke  something  of  the  habit  of  per- 
emptory command  and  decisive  superiority.  Even  his  courtesy, 
though  open,  frank,  and  unconstrained,  seemed  to  indicate  a 
sense  of  personal  importance  ;  and  upon  any  check  or  accidental 
excitation,  a  sudden,  though  transient  lour  of  the  eye,  showed 
a  hasty,  haughty,  and  vindictive  temper,  not  less  to  be  dreaded 
because  it  seemed  much  under  its  owner's  command.  In  short, 
the  countenance  of  the  chieftain  resembled  a  smiling  summer's 
day,  in  which,  notwithstanding,  we  are  made  sensible  by  certain, 
though  slight  signs,  that  it  may  thunder  and  lighten  before  the 
close  of  evening. 

It  was  not,  however,  upon  their  first  meeting  that  Edward 
had  an  opportunity  of  making  these  less  favorable  remarks. 
The  Chief  received  him  as  a  friend  of  the  Baron  of  Bradwar- 


124  WAVERLEV. 

dine,  with  the  utmost  expression  of  kindness  and  obligation  fof 
the  visit;  upbraided  him  gently  with  choosing  so  rude  an 
abode  as  he  had  done  the  night  before  ;  and  entered  into  a 
lively  conversation  with  him  about  Donald  Bean's  housekeeping, 
but  without  the  least  hint  as  to  his  predatory  habits,  or  the  im- 
mediate occasion  of  Waverley's  visit,  a  topic  which,  as  the 
Chief  did  not  introduce  it,  our  hero  also  avoided.  While  they 
walked  merrily  on  towards  the  house  of  Glennaquoich,  Evan, 
who  now  fell  respectfully  into  the  rear,  followed  with  Galium 
Beg  and  Dugald  Mahony. 

We  shall  take  the  opportunity  to  introduce  the  reader  to 
Bome  particulars  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's  character  and  history, 
which  were  not  completely  known  to  Waverley  till  after  a  con- 
nection, which,  though  arising  from  a  circumstance  so  casual, 
had  for  a  length  of  time  the  deepest  influence  upon  his  char- 
acter, actions,  and  prospects.  But  this  being  an  important 
subject,  must  form  the  commencement  of  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER  NINETEENTH. 

THE  CHIEF  AND   HIS   MANSION. 

The  ingenious  licentiate  Francisco  de  Ubeda,  when  fte 
commenced  his  history  of  La  Picara  Justina  Diez, — which,  by 
the  way,  Is  one  of  the  most  rare  books  of  Spanish  literature, 
— complained  of  his  pen  having  caught  up  a  hair,  and  forth- 
with begins,  with  more  eloquence  than  common  sense,  an  affec- 
tionate expostulation  with  that  useful  implement,  upbraiding  it 
with  being  the  quill  of  a  goose, — a  bird  inconstant  by  nature^ 
as  frequenting  the  three  elements  of  water,  earth,  and  air,  in 
differently,  and  being,  of  course,  "  to  one  thing  constant  never.*' 
Now  I  protest  to  thee,  gentle  reader,  that  I  entirely  disseni 
from  Francisco  de  Ubeda  in  this  matter,  and  hold  it  the  most 
useful  quality  of  my  pen,  that  it  can  speedily  change  from  grave 
to  gay,  and  from  description  and  dialogue  to  narrative  and 
character.  So  that  if  my  quill  display  no  other  properties  of 
its  mother  goose  than  her  mutability,  truly  I  shall  be  well 
pleased  ;  and  I  conceive  that  you,  my  worthy  friend,  will  have 
no  occasion  for  discontent.  From  the  jargon,  therefore,  of  the 
Highland  gillies,  I  pass  to  the  character  of  tiieir  chief.     It  ia 


WAVERLEY. 


%2% 


an  important  examination,  and  therefore  like  Dogberry,  we 

must  spare  no  wisdom. 

The  ancestor  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  about  three  centuries 
before,  had  set  up  a  claim  to  be  recognized  as  chief  of  the 
numerous  and  powerful  clan  to  which  he  belonged,  the  name 
of  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  mention.  Being  defeated  by  ari 
opponent  who  had  more  justice,  or  at  least  more  force,  on  his 
side,  he  moved  southwards,  with  those  who  adhered  to  him,  in 
quest  of  new  settlements,  like  a  second  ^neas.  The  state  of 
the  Perthshire  Highlands  favored  his  purpose.  A  great  Baron 
in  that  country  had  lately  become  traitor  to  the  crown  ;  Ian, 
which  was  the  name  of  our  adventurer,  united  himself  with 
those  who  were  commissioned  by  the  King  to  chastise  him, 
and  did  such  good  service  that  he  obtained  a  grant  of  the 
property,  upon  which  he  and  his  posterity  afterwards  resided. 
He  followed  the  King  also  in  war  to  the  fertile  regions  of  Eng- 
land, where  he  employed  his  leisure  hours  so  actively  in  raising 
subsidies  among  the  boors  of  Northumberland  and  Durham, 
that  upon  his  return  he  was  enabled  to  erect  a  stone  tower,  or 
fortalice,  so  much  admired  by  his  dependants  and  neighbors, 
that  he,  who  had  hitherto  been  called  Ian  Mac-Ivor,  or  John 
the  son  of  Ivor,  was  thereafter  distinguished,  both  in  song  and 
genealogy,  by  the  high  title  of  Ian  fian  Chaistel,  or  John  of  the 
To\\»er.  The  descendants  of  this  worthy  were  so  proud  of  him, 
that  the  reigningchief  always  bore  the  patronymic  title  of  Vich 
Ian  Vohr,  /.  e.  the  son  of  John  the  Great ;  while  the  clan  at 
large,  to  distinguish  them  from  that  from  which  they  had  se- 
ceded, were  denominated  Sliochd  nan  Ivor,  the  race  of  Ivor. 

The  father  of  Fergus,  the  tenth  in  direct  descent  from  John 
of  the  Tower,  engaged  heart  and  hand  in  the  insurrection  of 
17 15,  and  was  forced  to  fly  to  France  after  the  attempt  of  that 
year  in  favor  of  the  Stuarts  had  proved  unsuccessful.  More 
fortunate  than  other  fugitives,  he  obtained  employment  in  the 
French  service,  and  married  a  lady  of  rank  in  that  kingdom, 
by  whom  he  had  two  children,  Fergus  and  his  sister  Flora. 
The  Scottish  estate  had  been  forfeited  and  exposed  to  sale, 
but  was  repurchased  for  a  small  price  in  the  name  of  the  young 
proprietor,  who  in  consequence  came  to  reside  upon  his  native 
domains."'^  It  was  soon  perceived  that  he  possessed  a  char 
acter  of  uncommon  aucteness,  fire,  and  ambition,  which,  as  he 
became  acquainted  with  the  state  of  the  country,  gradually  as- 
sumed a  mixed  and  peculiar  tone,  that  could  only  have  been 
acquired  Sixty  Years  Since. 

Had  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  lived  Sixty  Years  sooner  than  he 


',s5  WAVERLEY. 

did,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  wanted  the  poUshecl 
manner  and  knowledge  of  the  world  which  he  now  possessed ; 
and  had  he  lived  Sixty  Years  later,  his  ambition  and  love  of 
rule  would  have  lacked  the  fuel  which  his  situation  now  af« 
forded.  He  was  indeed,  within  his  little  circle,  as  perfect  a 
politician  as  Castruccio  Castrucani  himself.  He  applied  him- 
self with  great  earnestness  to  appease  all  the  feuds  and  dissen- 
sions which  often  arose  among  other  clans  in  his  neighborhood, 
so  that  he  became  a  frequent  umpire  in  their  quarrels.  His 
own  patriarchal  power  he  strengthened  at  ever}^  expense  which 
his  fortune  would  permit,  and  indeed  stretched  his  means  to 
the  uttermost  to  maintain  the  rude  and  plentiful  hospitality, 
which  was  the  most  valued  attribute  of  a  chieftain.  For  the 
same  reason,  he  crowded  his  estate  with  a  tenantry,  hardy  in- 
deed, and  fit  for  the  purposes  of  war,  but  greatly  outnumbering 
what  the  soil  was  calculated  to  maintain.  These  consisted 
chiefly  of  his  own  clan,  not  one  of  whom  he  suffered  to  quit  his 
lands  if  he  could  possibly  prevent  it.  But  he  maintained,  be- 
sides, many  adventurers  from  the  mother  sept,  who  deserted  a 
less  warlike,  though  more  wealthy  chief,  to  do  homage  to  Fer- 
gus Mac-Ivor.  Other  individuals,  too,  who  had  not  even  that 
apology,  were  nevertheless  received  into  his  allegiance,  which 
indeed  was  refused  to  none  who  were,  like  Poins,  proper  men 
of  their  hands,  and  were  willing  to  assume  the  name  of  Mac- 
Ivor. 

He  was  enabled  to  discipline  these  forces  from  having  ob- 
tained command  of  one  of  the  independent  companies,  raised 
by  government  to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  Highlands.  While 
in  this  capacity  he  acted  with  vigor  and  spirit,  and  preserved 
great  order  in  the  country  under  his  charge.  He  caused  hi? 
vassals  to  enter  by  rotation  into  his  company,  and  serve  for  a 
certain  space  of  time,  which  gave  them  all  in  turn  a  general 
notion  of  military  discipline.  In  his  campaigns  against  the 
banditti,  it  was  observed  that  he  assumed  and  exercised  to  the 
utmost  the  discretionary  power,  which,  while  the  law  had  no 
free  course  in  the  Highlands,  was  conceived  to  belong  to  the 
military  parties  who  were  called  in  to  support  it.  He  acted, 
for  example,  with  great  and  suspicious  lenity  to  those  free- 
booters who  made  restitution  on  his  summons,  and  offered  per- 
sonal submission  to  himself,  while  he  rigorously  pursued,  appre- 
hended, and  sacrificed  to  justice,  all  such  interlopers  as  dared 
to  despise  his  admonitions  or  commands.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  any  officers  of  justice,  military  parties,  or  others,  presumed 
to  pursue  thieves  or  marauders  through  his  territories,  and 


WAFERLEY.  12^ 

tdthout  applying  for  his  consent  and  concurrence,  nothing  was 
more  certain  than  that  they  v/ould  meet  with  some  notable  foil 
or  defeat ;  upon  which  occasions  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  was  the  first 
to  condole  with  them,  and,  after  gently  blaming  their  rashness, 
never  failed  deeply  to  lament  the  lawless  state  of  the  country. 
These  lamentations  did  not  exclude  suspicion,  and  matters 
were  so  represented  to  government,  that  our  chieftain  was  de* 
prived  of  his  military  command.^^ 

Whatever  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  felt  on  this  occasion,  he  had  the 
art  of  entirely  suppressing  every  appearance  of  discontent ; 
but  in  a  short  time  the  neighboring  country  began  to  feel  bad 
effects  from  his  disgrace.  Donald  Bean  Lean,  and  others  of 
his  class,  whose  depredations  had  hitherto  been  confined  to 
other  districts,  appeared  from  thenceforward  to  have  made  a 
settlement  on  this  devoted  border ;  and  their  ravages  were  car- 
ried on  with  little  opposition,  as  the  Lowland  gentry  were  chiefly 
Jacobites,  and  disarmed.  This  forced  many  of  the  inhabitants 
into  contracts  of  black-mail  with  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  which  not 
only  established  him  their  protector,  and  gave  him  great  weight 
in  all  their  consultations,  but  moreover  supplied  funds  for  the 
waste  of  his  feudal  hospitality,  which  the  discontinuance  of  his 
pay  might  have  otherwise  essentially  diminished. 

In  following  this  course  of  conduct,  Fergus  had  a  farther 
object  than  merely  being  the  great  man  of  his  neighborhood, 
and  ruling  despotically  over  a  small  clan.  From  his  infancy 
upward,  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the  cause  of  the  exiled 
family,  and  had  persuaded  himself,  not  only  that  their  restora- 
tion to  the  crown  of  Britain  would  be  speedy,  but  that  those 
who  assisted  them  would  be  raised  to  honor  and  rank.  It  waa 
with  this  view  that  he  labored  to  reconcile  the  Highlanders 
among  themselves,  and  augmented  his  own  force  to  the  utmost, 
to  be  prepared  for  the  first  favorable  opportunity  of  rising. 
With  this  purpose  also  he  conciliated  the  favor  of  such  Low- 
land gentlemen  in  the  vicinity  as  were  friends  to  the  good  cause  ; 
and  for  the  same  reason,  having  incautiously  quarrelled  with 
Mr.  Bradvvardine,  who,  notwithstanding  his  peculiarities,  was 
much  respected  in  the  country,  he  took  advantage  of  the  foray 
of  Donald  Bean  Lean  to  solder  up  the  dispute  in  the  manner 
we  have  mentioned.  Some  indeed  surmised  that  he  caused  the 
enterprize  to  be  suggested  to  Donald,  on  purpose  to  pave  the 
vray  to  a  reconciliation,  which,  supjDosing  that  to  be  the  case, 
cost  the  Laird  of  Bradwardine  two  good  milch  cows.  This 
zeal  in  their  behalf  the  house  of  Stuart  repaid  with  a  consider- 
able share  of  their  confidence,  an  occasional  jsufftly  of  louia 


128  WAVER  LEV. 

d'or,  abundance  of  fair  words,  and  a  parchment  with  a  huge 
waxen  seal  appended,  purporting  to  be  an  earl's  patent,  granted 
by  no  less  a  person  than  James  the  Third  King  •f  England, 
and  Eighth  King  of  Scotland,  to  his  right  feal,  trusty,  and  well- 
beloved  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  of  Glennaquoich,  in  the  county  of 
Perth,  and  kingdom  of  Scotland. 

With  this  future  coronet  glittering  before  his  eyes,  Fergus 
plunged  deeply  into  the  correspondence  and  plots  of  that  un- 
happy period  ;  and,  like  all  such  active  agents,  easily  recon- 
ciled his  conscience  to  going  certain  lengths  in  the  service  of 
his  party,  from  which  honor  and  pride  would  have  deterred  him, 
had  his  sole  object  been  the  direct  advancement  of  his  own 
personal  interest.  With  this  insight  into  a  bold,  ambitious,  and 
ardent,  yet  artful  and  politic  character,  we  resume  the  broken 
thread  of  our  narrative. 

The  Chief  and  his  guest  had  by  this  time  reached  the  house 
of  Glennaquoich,  which  consisted  of  Ian  nan  Chaistel's  man- 
sion, a  high  rude-looking  square  tov/er,  with  the  addition  of  a 
lofti'd  house,  that  is.  a  building  of  two  stories,  constructed  by 
Fergus's  grandfatk.er  v>'hen  he  returned  from  that  memorable 
expedition,  well  remembered  by  the  western  shires,  under  the 
name  of  the  Highland  Host.  Upon  occasion  of  this  crusade 
against  the  Ayrshire  wh.igs  and  covenanters,  the  Vich  Ian 
Vohr  of  the  time  had  probably  been  as  successful  as  his  prede- 
cessor was  in  harrying  Northum.berland,  and  therefore  left  to 
his  posterity  a  rival  edifice,  as  a  monument  of  his  magnificence. 

Around  the  house,  which  stood  on  an  eminence  in  the  midst 
of  a  narrow  Highland  valley,  there  appeared  none  of  that  at- 
tention to  convenience,  far  less  to  ornament  and  decoration, 
which  usually  surrounds  a  gentleman's  habitation.  An  inclosure 
or  two,  divided  by  dr^'-stone  walls,  were  the  only  part  of  the 
domain  that  was  fenced  ;  as  to  the  rest,  the  narrow  slips  of 
level  ground  which  lay  by  the  side  of  the  brook,  exhibited  a 
scanty  crop  of  barley,  liable  to  constant  depredations  from  the 
herds  of  wild  ponies  and  black  cattle  that  grazed  upon  the  ad- 
jacent hills.  These  ever  and  anon  made  an  incursion  upon  the 
arable  ground,  which  was  repelled  by  the  loud,  uncouth,  and 
dissonant  shouts  of  half  a  dozen  Highland  swains,  all  running 
as  if  they  had  been  mad,  and  everyone  hallooing  a  half-starved 
dog  to  the  rescue  of  the  forage.  At  a  little  distance  up  the 
glen  was  a  small  and  stunted  wood  of  birch  ;  the  hills  were 
high  and  heathy,  but  without  any  variety  of  surface  ;  so  that 
the  whole  view  was  wild  and  desolate,  rather  than  grand  and 
•olitary.    Yet  such  as  it  was,  no  (genuine  descendant  of  Ian 


WAVEHtBY^ 


129 


nan  Chaistel  would  have  changed  the  domain  for  Stow  or 
Blenheim. 

There  was  a  sight,  however,  before  the  gate,  which  perhaps 
would  have  afforded  the  first  owner  of  Blenheim  more  pleasure 
than  the  finest  view  in  the  domain  assigned  to  him  by  the  grati- 
tude of  his  country.  This  consisted  of  about  a  hundred  High- 
landers, in  complete  dress  and  arms  ;  at  sight  of  whom  th' 
chieftain  apologized  to  Waverley  in  a  sort  of  negligent  mann jr 
"  He  had  forgot,"  he  said,  "  that  he  had  ordered  a  few  of  his 
clan  out,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  that  they  were  in  a  fit  con- 
dition to  protect  the  country,  and  prevent  such  accidents  as, 
he  was  sorry  to  learn,  had  befallen  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine. 
Before  they  were  dismissed,  perhaps  Captain  V.'r.crley  might 
choose  to  see  them  go  through  a  part  of  their  exercise." 

Edward  assented,  and  the  men  executed  with  agility  and 
precision  some  of  the  ordinary  military  movements.  They 
then  practiced  individually  at  a  mark,  and  showed  extraordinary 
dexterity  in  the  management  of  the  pistol  and  firelock.  They 
took  aim  standing,  sitting,  leaning,  or  lying  prostrate,  as  they 
were  commanded,  and  always  with  effect  upon  the  target. 
Next,  they  paired  off  for  the  broadsword  exercise  ;  and,  having 
manifested  their  individual  skill  and  dexterity,  united  in  two  bod- 
ies, and  exhibited  a  sort  of  mock  encounter,  in  which  the  charge, 
the  rally,  the  flight,  the  pursuit,  and  all  the  current  of  a  heady 
fight,  were  exhibited  to  the  sound  of  the  great  war  bagpipe. 

On  a  signal  made  by  the  Chief,  the  skirmish  was  ended. 
INIatches  were  then  made  for  running,  wrestling,  leaping,  pitch- 
ing the  bar,  and  other  sports,  in  which  this  feudal  militia  dis- 
played incredible  swiftness,  strength,  and  agility ;  and  accom- 
plished the  purpose  which  their  chieftain  had  at  heart,  by 
pressing  onW?AVrley  no  light  sense  of  their  merit  as  soldiers, 
nd  of  the  power  of  him  who  commanded  them  by  his  nod.^'^ 

"  And  what  number  of  such  gallant  fellows  have  the  hap- 
piness to  call  you  leader  ?  "  asked  Waverley. 

"  In  a  good  cause,  and  under  a  chieftain  whom  they  lovea, 
the  race  of  Ivor  have  seldom  taken  the  field  under  five  hundred 
claymores.  But  you  are  aware.  Captain  Waverley,  that  the 
disarming  act,  passed  about  twenty  years  ago,  prevents  their 
being  in  the  complete  state  of  preparation,  as  in  former  times ; 
and  I  keep  no  more  of  my  clan  under  arms  than  may  defend 
my  own  or  my  friends'  properly,  when  the  country  is  troubled 
with  such  men  as  your  last  night's  landlord  ;  and  government, 
which  has  removed  other  means  of  defence,  must  connive  at 
our  protecting  ourselves." 


I^O  WAVERLRr. 

"  But  with  your  force  you  might  soon  destroy,  or  put  dowi^ 

such  gangs  as  that  of  Donald  Bean  Lean." 

"  Ves,  doubtless ;  and  my  reward  would  be  a  summons  to 
deliver  up  to  General  Blakeney,  at  Stirling,  the  few  broad- 
swords they  have  left  us :  there  were  little  policy  in  that,  me- 
Ihinks. — But  come,  Captain,  the  sound  of  the  pipes  informs  mo 
that  dinner  is  prepared — Let  me  have  the  honor  to  show  you 
iflto  my  rude  mansion." 


CHAPTER  TWENTIETH. 

A   HIGHLAND    FEAST. 


Ere  Waverley  entered  the  banquetting-hall,  he  was  oflFered 
the  patriarchal  refreshment  of  a  bath  tor  the  feet,  which  the 
sultry  weather,  and  the  morasses  he  had  traversed,  rendered 
highly  acceptable.  He  was  not  indeed  so  luxuriously  attend- 
ed upon  this  occasion,  as  the  heroic  travellers  in  the  Odyssey  ; 
the  task  of  ablution  and  abstersion  being  performed,  not  by  a 
beautiful  damsel,  trained 

To  chafe  the  limb,  and  pour  the  fragrant  oil, 

but  by  a  smoke-dried  skinny  old  Highland  woman,  who  did 
not  seem  to  think  herself  much  honoured  by  the  duty  imposed 
upon  her,  but  muttered  between  her  teeth,  "  Our  fathers'  herds 
did  not  feed  so  near  together,  that  I  should  do  you  this  ser- 
vice." A  small  donation,  however,  amply  reconciled  this  an- 
cient handmaiden  to  the  supposed  degradation  ;  and,  as  Edward 
proceeded  to  the  hall,  she  gave  him  her  blessing,  in  the  Gaelic 
proverb,  "  May  the  open  hand  be  filled  the  fullest." 

The  hall,  in  which  the  feast  was  prepared,  occupied  the 
fijst  story  of  Ian  nan  Chaistel's  original  erection,  and  a  huge 
raken  table  extended  through  its  whole  length.  The  apparatus 
for  dinner  was  simple,  even  to  rudeness,  and  the  company  nu- 
merous, even  to  crowding.  At  the  head  of  the  table  was  the 
Chief  himself,  with  Edward,  and  two  or  three  Highland  visi- 
tors of  neighboring  clans  ;  the  elders  of  his  own  tribe,  wad- 
setters and  tacksmen,  as  they  were  called,  who  occupied  por- 
tions of  his  estate  as  mortgagers  or  lessees,  sat  next  in  rankj 
beneath  them,  their  sons  and  nephews,  and  foster-brethren  j 
then  the  ofi5cers  of  the  Chief's  household,  according  to  their 


WAVERLEY.  13I 

drder ;  and,  lowest  of  all,  the  tenants  who  actually  cultivated 

the  ground.  Even  beyond  this  long  perspective,  Edward  might 
see  upon  the  green,  to  which  a  huge  pair  of  folding  doors 
opened,  a  multitude  of  Highlanders  of  a  yet  inferior  description, 
who,  nevertheless,  were  considered  as  guests,  and  had  their 
share  both  of  the  countenance  of  the  entertainer,  and  of  the 
cheer  of  the  day.  In  the  distance,  and  fluctuating  round  this 
Extreme  verge  of  the  banquet,  was  a  changeful  group  of 
women,  ragged  boys  and  girls,  beggars,  young  and  old,  large 
grayhounds,  and  terriers,  and  pointers,  and  curs  of  low  degree ; 
all  of  whom  took  some  interest,  more  or  less  immediate,  in  the 
main  action  of  the  piece. 

This  hospitality,  apparently  unbounded,  had  yet  its  line  of 
economy.  Some  pains  had  been  bestowed  in  dressing  the 
dishes  of  fish,  game,  &c.,  which  were  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
table,  and  immediately  under  the  eye  of  the  English  stranger. 
Lower  down  stood  immense  clumsy  joints  of  mutton  and  beef, 
which,  but  for  the  absence  of  pork,  abhorred  in  the  Highlands, 
resembled  the  rude  festivity  of  the  banquet  of  Penelope's 
suitors.  But  the  central  dish  was  a  yearling  lamb,  called  "  a 
hog  in  harst,"  roasted  whole.  It  was  set  upon  its  legs,  with  a 
bunch  of  parsley  in  its  mouth,  and  was  probably  exhibited  in 
that  form  to  gratify  the  pride  of  the  cook,  who  piqued  himself 
more  on  the  plenty  than  the  elegance  of  his  master's  table. 
The  sides  of  this  poor  animal  were  fiercely  attacked  by  the 
clansmen,  some  with  dirks,  others  with  the  knives  which  were 
usually  in  the  same  sheath  with  the  dagger,  so  that  it  was  soon 
rendered  a  mangled  and  rueful  spectacle.  Lower  down  still, 
the  victuals  seemed  of  yet  coarser  quality,  though  sufficiently 
abundant.  Broth,  onions,  cheese,  and  the  fragments  of  the 
feast,  regaled  the  sons  of  Ivor  who  feasted  in  the  open  air. 

The  liquor  was  supplied  in  the  same  proportion,  and  under 
similar  regulations.  Excellent  claret  and  champagne  were 
liberally  distributed  among  the  Chief's  immediate  neighbors ; 
whiskey,  plain  or  diluted,  and  strong  beer,  refreshed  those  who 
sat  near  the  lower  end.  Nor  did  this  inequality  of  distribution 
appear  to  give  the  least  offence.  Every  one  present  under- 
stood that  his  taste  was  to  be  formed  according  to  the  rank 
which  he  held  at  table  ;  and  consequently  the  tacksmen  and 
their  dependants  always  professed  the  wine  was  too  cold  for 
their  stomachs,  and  called,  apparently  out  of  choice,  for  the 
liquor  which  was  assigned  to  them  from  economy.  The  bag- 
pipers, three  in  number,  screamed,  during  the  whole  time  of 
dinner,  a  tremendous  war-tune ;  and  the  echoing  of  the  vaulted 


,j,  WAVERLRY. 

roof,  and  clang  of  the  Celtic  tongue,  produced  such  a  Babd 
of  noises,  thai  VVaverley  dreaded  his  ears  would  never  recover 
it.  Mac- Ivor,  indeed,  apologized  for  the  confusion  occasioned 
by  so  large  a  party,  and  pleaded  the  necessity  of  his  situation, 
on  wliich  unlimited  hospitahty  was  imposed  as  a  paramount 
duty.  "These  stout  idle  kinsmen  of  mine,"  he  said,  "  account 
my  estate  as  held  in  trust  for  their  support ;  and  I  must  find 
them  beef«and  ale,  while  the  rogues  will  do  nothing  for  them- 
selves but  practice  the  broadsword,  or  wander  about  the  hills 
shooting,  fishing,  hunting,  drinking,  and  making  love  to  the 
lasses  of  the  strath.  But  what  can  I  do,  Captain  Waverley  ? 
everything  will  keep  after  its  kind,  whether  it  be  a  hawk  or  a 
Highlander."  Edward  made  the  expected  answer,  in  a  com- 
pliment upon  his  possessing  so  many  bold  and  attached  fol- 
lowers. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  the  Chief,  "  were  I  disposed,  like  my 
father,  to  put  myself  in  the  way  of  getting  one  blow  on  the 
head,  or  two  on  the  neck,  I  believe  the  loons  would  stand  by 
me.  But  who  thinks  of  that  in  the  present  day,  when  the 
maxim  is, — '  Better  an  old  woman  with  a  purse  in  her  hand, 
than  three  men  with  belted  brands  ? '  "  Then,  turning  to  the 
company,  he  proposed  the  "  Health  of  Captain  Waverley,  a 
worthy  friend  of  his  kind  neighbor  and  ally,  the  Baron  of 
Bradwardine." 

"  He  is  welcome  hither,"  said  one  of  the  elders,  "  if  he 
come  from  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine." 

"  I  say  nay  to  that,"  said  an  old  man,  who  apparently  did 
not  mean  to  pledge  the  toast ;  "  I  say  nay  to  that ; — while  there 
is  a  green  leaf  in  the  forest,  there  will  be  fraud  in  a  Comyne." 

"  There  is  nothing  but  honor  in  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine," 
answered  another  ancient ;  "  and  the  guest  that  comes  hither 
from  him  should  be  welcome,  though  he  came  with  blood  on  his 
hand,  unless  it  were  blood  of  tl::e  race  of  Ivor." 

The  old  man,  whose  cup  remained  full,  replied,  "There 
kas  been  blood  enough  of  the  race  of  Ivor  on  the  hand  of 
Bradwardine." 

"Ah!  Ballenkeiroch,"  replied  the  first,  "you  think  rather 
^  the  flash  of  the  carbine  at  the  Mains  of  Tully-Veolan,  than 
ihe  glance  of  the  sword  that  fought  for  the  cause  at  Preston." 

"  And  well  I  may,"  answered  Ballenkeiroch  ;  "  the  flash  (rf 
the  gun  cost  me  a  fair-haired  son,  and  the  glance  of  the  sworci 
has  done  but  little  for  King  James." 

The  Chieftain,  in  two  words  of  French,  explained  to  Waver- 
ley} that  the  Baroa  bad  shot  this  old  man's  son  ia  a  fray  neai 


IP'AVERLEY.  t33 

rully-Veolan  about  seven  years  before  ;  and  then  hastened  to 
remove  Ballenkeiroch's  prejudice,  by  informing  him  that  Waver- 
ley  was  an  EngUshman  unconnected  by  birth  or  alliance  with 
the  family  of  Bradwardine ;  upon  which  the  old  genUeman 
raised  the  hitherto-untasted  cup,  and  courteously  drank  to  his 
health.  This  ceremony  being  requited  in  kind,  the  Chieftain 
made  a  signal  for  the  pipes  to  cease,  and  said,  aloud,  "  Where 
is  the  song  hidden,  my  friends,  that  Mac-Murrough  cannot 
find  it?" 

Mac-Murrough,  the  family  hliairdh,  an  aged  man,  imme- 
diately took  the  hint,  and  began  to  chant,  with  low  and  rapid 
utterance,  a  profusion  of  Celtic  verses,  which  were  received  by 
the  audience  with  all  the  applause  of  enthusiasm.  As  he  ad- 
vanced in  his  declamation,  his  ardor  seemed  to  increase.  He 
had  at  first  spoken  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground ;  he  now 
cast  them  around  as  if  beseeching,  and  anon  as  if  commanding, 
attention,  and  his  tones  rose  into  wild  and  impassioned  notes, 
accompanied  with  appropriate  gestures.  He  seemed  to  Ed- 
ward, who  attended  to  him  with  much  interest,  to  recite  many 
proper  names,  to  lament  the  dead,  to  apostrophize  the  absent, 
to  exhort,  and  entreat,  and  animate  those  who  were  present. 
Waverley  thought  he  even  discerned  his  own  name,  and  was 
convinced  his  conjecture  was  right,  from  the  eyes  of  the  com- 
pany being  at  that  moment  turned  toward  him  simultaneously. 
The  ardor  of  the  poet  appeared  to  communicate  itself  to  the 
audience.  Their  wild  and  sun-burnt  countenances  assumed 
a  fiercer  and  more  animated  expression ;  all  bent  forward 
towards  the  reciter,  many  sprang  up  and  waved  their  arms  in 
ecstacy,  and  some  laid  their  hands  on  their  swords.  When  the 
song  ceased,  there  was  a  deep  pause,  while  the  aroused  feelings 
of  the  poet  and  of  the  hearers  gradually  subsided  into  their 
usual  channel. 

The  Chieftain,  who,  during  tliis  scene,  had  appeared  rather 
to  watch  the  emotions  which  were  excited,  than  to  partake 
their  high  tone  of  enthusiasm,  filled  with  claret  a  small  silver 
cup  which  stood  by  him.  "Give  this,"  he  said  to  an  attendant, 
"  to  Mac-Murrough  nan  Eonn  (/.  e.  of  the  songs),  and  when  he 
has  drank  the  juice  bid  him  keep,  for  the  sake  of  Vich  Ian 
Vohr,  the  shell  of  the  gourd  which  contained  it."  The  gift 
was  received  by  Mac-Murrough  with  profound  gratitude  ;  he 
drank  the  wine,  and,  kissing  the  cup,  shrouded  it  with  rever- 
ence in  the  plaid  which  was  folded  on  his  bosom.  He  then 
burst  forth  into  what  Edward  justly  supposed  to  be  an  extem- 
poraneous effusion  of  thanks,  and  praises  of  his  chief.     It  was 


,34  WAVERLEY. 

received  with  applause,  but  did  not  produce  the  effect  of  his 
first  poem.  It  was  obvious,  however,  that  the  clan  regarded 
the  generosity  of  their  chieftain  with  high  approbation.  Many 
approved  Gaelic  toasts  were  then  proposed,  of  some  of  which 
the  Chieftain  gave  his  guest  the  following  versions  : — 

"  To  him  that  will  not  turn  his  back  on  friend  or  foe." 
•'  To  him  that  never  forsook  a  comrade."  *'  To  him  that  never 
bought  or  sold  justice."  "  Hospitality  to  the  exile,  and  broken 
bones  to  the  tyrant."  "  The  lads  with  the  kilts."  "  High- 
landers, shoulder  to  shoulder," — with  many  other  pithy  senti- 
ments of  the  like  nature. 

Edward  was  particularly  solicitous  to  know  the  meaning  of 
that  song  which  appeared  to  produce  such  effect  upon  the  pas 
sions  of  the  company,  and  hinted  his  curiosity  to  his  host. 
•'  As  I  observe,"  said  the  Chieftain,  "  that  3^ou  feave  passed 
the  bottle  during  the  last  three  rounds,  I  was  about  to  propose 
to  you  to  retire  to  my  sister's  tea-table,  who  can  explain  these 
things  to  you  better  than  I  can.  Although  I  cannot  stint  my 
clan  in  the  usual  current  of  their  festivity,  yet  I  neither  am 
addicted  myself  to  exceed  in  its  amount,  nor  do  I,"  added  he, 
smiling,  "  keep  a  Bear  to  devour  the  intellects  of  such  as  can 
make  good  use  of  them." 

Edward  readily  assented  to  this  proposal,  and  the  Chief- 
tain, saying  a  few  words  to  those  around  him,  left  the  table, 
followed  by  Waverley.  As  the  door  closed  behind  them,  Ed- 
ward heard  Vich  Ian  Vohr's  health  invoked  with  a  wild  and 
animated  cheer,  that  expressed  the  satisfaction  of  the  guests, 
and  the  depth  of  their  devotion  to  his  service. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

THE  chieftain's   SISTER. 

The  drawing-room  of  Flora  Mac-Ivor  was  furnished  in  the 
plainest  and  most  simple  manner  ;  for  at  Glennaquoich  every 
other  sort  of  expenditure  was  retrenched  as  much  as  possible, 
for  the  purpose  of  maintaining,  in  its  full  dignity,  the  hospitality 
of  the  Chieftain,  and  retaining  and  multipl3dng  the  number  of 
liis  dependants  and  adherents.  But  there  was  no  appearance 
of  tb's  parsimony  in  the  dress  of  the  lady  herself,  which  was  io 


tVAVERLEY.  135 

texture  elegant,  and  even  rich,  and  arranged  in  a  manner  which 
partook  partly  of  the  Parisian  fashion  and  partly  of  the  more 
simple  dress  of  the  Highlands,  blended  together  with  great 
?;aste.  Her  hair  was  not  disfigured  by  the  art  of  the  friseur, 
but  fell  in  jetty  ringlets  on  her  neck,  confined  only  by  a  circlet, 
richly  set  with  diamonds.  This  peculiarity  she  adopted  in  com- 
pliance with  the  Highland  prejudices,  which  could  not  endure 
that  a  woman's  head  should  be  covered  before  wedlock. 

Flora  Mac-Ivor  bore  a  most  striking  resemblance  to  her 
brother  Fergus  ;  so  much  so,  that  they  might  have  played 
Viola  and  Sebastian  with  the  same  exquisite  effect  produced  by 
the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons  and  her  brother,  Mr. 
William  Murray,  in  these  characters.  They  had  the  same 
antique  and  regular  correctness  of  profile  ;  the  same  dark  eyes, 
eyelashes,  and  eyebrows  ;  the  same  clearness  of  complexion, 
excepting  that  Fergus's  was  embrowned  by  exercise,  and  Flora's 
possessed  the  utmost  feminine  delicacy.  But  the  haughty,  and 
somewhat  stern  regularity  of  Fergus's  features  was  beautifully 
softened  in  those  of  Flora.  Their  voices  were  also  similar  in 
tone,  though  differing  in  the  key.  That  of  Fergus,  especially 
while  issuing  orders  to  his  followers  during  their  military  exer- 
cise, reminded  Edward  of  a  favorite  passage  in  the  descriptioa 
of  Emetrius : 

whose  voice  was  heard  around, 


Loud  as  a  trumpet  with  a  silver  sound. 

That  of  Flora,  on  the  contrary,  was  soft  and  sweet,  "an  excel- 
lent thing  in  woman  ;  "  yet  in  urging  any  favorite  topic,  which 
she  often  pursued  with  natural  eloquence,  it  possessed  as  well 
the  tones  which  impress  awe  and  conviction,  as  those  of  per- 
suasive insinuation.  -  The  eager  glance  of  the  keen  black  eye, 
which,  in  the  Chieftain,  seemed  impatient  even  of  the  material 
obstacles  it  encountered,  had,  in  his  sister,  acquired  a  gentle 
pensiveness.  His  looks  seemed  to  seek  glory,  power,  all  that 
could  exalt  him  above  others  in  the  race  of  humanity  ;  while 
those  of  his  sister,  as  if  she  were  already  conscious  of  menta? 
superiority,  seemed  to  pity,  rather  than  envy,  those  who  were 
struggling  for  any  farther  distinction.  Her  sentiments  corres- 
ponded with  the  expression  of  her  countenance.  Early  educa- 
tion had  impressed  upon  her  mind,  as  well  as  on  that  of  the 
Chieftain,  the  most  devoted  attachment  to  the  exiled  family  of 
Stuart.  She  believed  it  the  duty  of  her  brother,  of  his  clan,  of 
every  man  in  Britain,  at  whatever  personal  hazard,  to  contri- 
bute to  that  restoration  which  the  partisans  of  the  Chevalier  de 


136  WAVBRLEV. 

Sl  George  had  not  ceased  to  hope  for.  For  this  she  was  pre 
pared  to  do  all,  to  suffer  all,  to  sacrifice  all.  Uut  her  loyalty, 
as  it  exceeded  her  brother's  in  fanaticism,  excelled  it  also  in 
purity.  Accustomed  to  petty  intrigue,  and  necessarily  involved 
m  a  thousand  paltry  and  selfish  discussions,  ambitious  also  by 
nature,  his  political  faith  was  tinctured  at  least,  if  not  taintecl, 
by  the  views  of  interest  and  advancement  so  easily  combined 
with  it ;  and  at  the  moment  he  should  unsheath  his  claymore, 
it  might  be  difficult  to  say  whether  it  would  be  most  with  the 
view  of  making  James  Stuart  a  king,  or  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  an 
earl.  This  indeed,  was  a  mixture  of  feeling  which  he  did  not 
avow  even  to  himself,  but  it  existed,  nevertheless,  in  a  powerful 
degree. 

In  Flora's  bosom,  on  the  contrary,  the  zeal  of  loyalty  burnt 
pure  and  unmixed  with  any  selfish  feeling  ;  she  would  have  as 
soon  made  religion  the  mask  of  ambitious  and  interested  views, 
as  have  shrouded  them  under  the  opinions  which  she  had  been 
taught  to  think  patriotism.  Such  instances  of  devotion  were 
not  uncommon  among  the  followers  of  the  unhappy  race  of 
Stuart,  of  which  many  memorable  proofs  will  recur  to  the  mind 
of  most  of  my  readers.  But  peculiar  attention  on  the  part  of 
,the  Chevalier  de  St.  George  and  his  princess  to  the  parents  of 
Fergus  and  his  sister,  and  to  themselves,  when  orphans,  had 
rivetted  their  faith.  Fergus,  upon  the  death  of  his  parents,  had 
been  for  some  time  a  page  of  honor  in  the  train  of  the  Cheva- 
lier's lady,  and,  from  his  beauty  and  sprightly  temper,  was  uni- 
formly treated  by  her  with  the  utmost  distinction.  This  was 
also  extended  to  Flora,  who  was  maintained  for  some  time  at  a 
convent  of  the  first  order,  at  the  princess's  expense,  and  removed 
from  thence  into  her  own  family,  where  she  spent  nearly  two 
years.  Both  brother  and  sister  retained  the  deepest  and  most 
grateful  sense  of  her  kindness. 

Having  thus  touched  upon  the  leading  principle  of  Flora's 
character,  I  may  dismiss  the  rest  more  slightly.  She  was  highly 
accomplished,  and  had  acquired  those  elegant  manners  to  be 
expected  from  one  who,  in  early  youth,  had  been  the  companion 
of  a  princess  ;  yet  she  had  not  learned  to  substitute  the  gloss 
of  politeness  for  the  reality  of  feeling.  When  settled  in  the 
lonely  regions  of  Glennaquolch,  she  found  that  her  resources  in 
French,  English,  and  Italian  literature,  were  likely  to  be  few 
and  interrupted ;  and,  in  order  to  fill  up  the  vacant  time,  she 
bestowed  a  part  of  it  upon  the  nmsic  and  poetical  traditions  of 
the  Highlanders,  and  began  really  to  feel  the  pleasure  in  the 
pursuit,  which  her  brother,  whose  perceptions  of  literary  meril 


were  more  blunt,  rather  affected  for  the  sake  of  popularity  than 
actually  experienced.  Her  resolution  was  strengthened  in 
these  researches,  by  the  extreme  delight  which  her  inquiries 
seemed  to  afford  those  to  whom  she  resorted  for  information. 

Her  love  of  her  clan,  an  attachment  which  was  almost  hered- 
itary in  her  bosom,  was,  like  her  loyalty,  a  more  pure  passion 
than  that  of  her  brother.  He  was  too  thorough  a  politician,  re- 
garded his  patriarchal  influence  too  much  as  the  means  of  ac- 
complishing his  own  aggrandizement,  that  we  should  term  him 
the  model  of  a  Highland  Chieftain.  Flora  felt  the  same  anx- 
iety for  cherishing  and  extending  their  patriarchal  sway,  but  it 
was  with  the  generous  desire  of  vindicating  from  poverty,  or  at 
least  from  want  and  foreign  oppression,  those  whom  her  brother 
was  by  birth,  according  to  the  notions  of  the  time  and  country, 
entitled  to  govern.  The  savings  of  her  income,  for  she  had  a 
small  pension  from  the  Princess  Sobieski,  were  dedicated,  not 
to  add  to  the  comforts  of  the  peasantry,  for  that  was  a  word 
which  they  neither  knew  nor  apparently  wished  to  know,  but  to 
relieve  their  absolute  necessities,  when  in  sickness  or  extreme 
old  age.  At  every  other  period,  they  rather  toiled  to  procure 
something  which  they  might  share  with  the  Chief,  as  a  proof  of 
their  attachment,  than  expected  other  assistance  from  him  save 
what  was  afforded  by  the  rude  hospitality  of  his  castle,  and  the  ^ 
general  division  and  subdivison  of  his  estate  among  them.  Flora 
was  so  much  beloved  by  them,  that  when  Mac-Murrough  com- 
posed a  song,  in  which  he  enumerated  all  the  principal  beauties 
of  the  districts  and  intimated  her  superiority  by  concluding,  that 
"the  fairest  apple  hung  on  the  highest  bough,"  he  received,  in 
donatives  from  the  individuals  of  the  clan,  more  seed-barley 
than  would  have  sowed  his  Highland  Parnassus,  the  Bard's 
crofff  as  it  was  called,  ten  times  over. 

From  situation,  as  well  as  choice,  Miss  Mac-Ivor's  society 
was  extremely  limited.  Pier  most  intimate  friend  had  been 
Rose  Bradwardine,  to  whom  she  was  nuich  attached  ;  and  when 
seen  together,  they  would  have  afforded  an  artist  two  admirable 
subjects  for  the  gay  and  the  melancholy  muse.  Indeed  Rose 
was  so  tenderly  watched  by  her  father,  and  her  circle  of  wishe« 
was  so  limited,  that  none  arose  but  what  he  was  willing  to 
gratify,  and  scarcely  any  which  did  not  come  within  the  compass 
of  his  power.  With  Flora  it  was  otherwise.  While  almost  a 
girl,  she  had  undergone  the  most  complete  change  of  scene, 
from  gayety  and  splendor  to  absolute  solitude  and  comparative 
poverty  ;  and  the  ideas  and  wishes  which  she  chiefly  fostered, 
lespected  great  Hational  events,  and  o'langes  not  to  be  brouhit 


jjg  WAVERLEY. 

round  without  both  hazard  and  bloodshed,  and  therefore  not  to 
be  thought  of  with  levity.  Her  manner  consequently  was  grave, 
though  she  readily  contributed  her  talents  to  the  amusement  of 
society,  and  stood  very  high  in  the  opinion  of  the  old  Baron, 
who  used  to  sing  along  with  her  such  French  duets  of  Lindor 
and  Cloris,  &c.,  as  were  in  fashion  about  the  end  of  the  reign 
of  old  Louis  le  Grand. 

It  w'as  generally  believed,  though  no  one  durst  have  hinted 
It  to  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  that  Flora's  entreaties  had  no 
small  share  in  allaying  the  wrath  of  Fergus  upon  occasion  of 
their  quarrel.  She  took  her  brother  on  the  assailable  side,  by 
dwelling  first  upon  the  Baron's  age,  and  then  representing  the 
injury  which  the  cause  might  sustain,  and  the  damage  which 
must  arise  to  his  own  character  in  point  of  prudence,  so  neces- 
sary to  a  political  agent,  if  he  persisted  in  carrj^ing  it  to  extrem- 
ity. Otherwise  it  is  probable  it  would  have  terminated  in  a 
duel,  both  because  the  Baron  had  on  a  former  occasion  shed 
blood  of  the  clan,  though  the  matter  had  been  timely  accommo- 
dated, and  on  account  of  his  high  reputation  for  address  at  his 
weapon,  which  Fergus  almost  condescended  to  envy.  For  the 
same  reason  she  had  urged  their  reconciliation,  which  the  Chief- 
tain the  more  readily  agreed  to,  as  it  favored  some  ulterior  pro- 
jects of  his  own. 

To  this  young  lady,  now  presiding  at  the  female  empire  of 
the  tea-table,  Fergus  introduced  Captain  Waverley,  whom  she 
received  with  the  usual  forms  of  politeness. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SECOND. 

HIGHLAND  MINSTRELSY. 

When  the  first  salutations  had  passed,  Fergus  said  to  his 
sister,  "  My  dear  Flora,  before  I  return  to  the  barbarous  ritual 
of  our  forefathers,  I  must  tell  you  that  Captain  Waverley  is  a 
worshipper  of  the  Celtic  muse,  not  the  less  so  perhaps  that  he 
does  not  understand  a  word  of  her  language.  I  have  told  him 
you  are  eminent  as  a  translator  of  Highland  poetr}^  and  that 
Mac-Murrough  admires  your  version  of  his  songs  upon  the 
same  principle  that  Captain  Waverley  admires  the  original, — • 
because  he  does  not  comprehend  them.    Will  you  have  the 


WAVERLEY. 


139 


goodness  to  read  or  recite  to  our  guest  in  English,  the  extraor- 
dinary string  of  names  which  Mac-Murrough  has  tacked  to- 
gether in  GaeHc  ? — My  life  to  a  moor-fowl's  feather,  you  are 
provided  with  a  version  ;  for  I  know  you  are  in  all  the  bard's 
councils,  and  acquainted  with  his  songs  long  before  he  rehearses 
them  in  the  hall." 

"  How  can  you  say  so,  Fergus  ?  You  know  how  little  these 
verses  can  possibly  interest  an  English  stranger,  even  if  I  could 
translate  them  as  you  pretend." 

"  Not  less  than  they  interest  me,  lady  fair.  To-day  your 
joint  composition,  for  I  insist  you  had  a  share  in  it,  has  cost 
me  the  last  silver  cup  in  the  castle,  and  I  suppose  will  cost  me 
something  else  next  time  I  hold  cour  pk'ntere,  if  the  muse  de- 
scends on  Mac-Murrough  ;  for  you  know  our  proverb, — When 
the  hand  of  the  chief  ceases  to  bestow,  the  breath  of  the  bard 
is  frozen  in  the  utterance. — Well,  I  would  it  were  even  so : 
there  are  three  things  that  are  useless  to  a  modern  Highlander, 
—a  sword  which  he  must  not  draw, — a  bard  to  sing  of  deeds 
which  he  dare  not  imitate, — and  a  large  goat-skin  purse  without 
a  louis  d'or  to  put  into  it." 

"  Well,  brother,  since  you  betray  my  secrets,  you  cannot 
expect  me  to  keep  yours. — I  assure  you.  Captain  Waverley, 
that  Fergus  is  too  proud  to  exchange  his  broadsword  for  a 
mare'chal's  baton  ;  that  he  esteems  MacMurrough  a  far 
greater  poet  than  Homer,  and  would  not  give  up  his  goat-skin 
purse  for  all  the  louis  d'ors  which  it  could  contain." 

*'  Well  pronounced,  Flora ;  blow  for  blow,  as  Conan  said  to 
the  devil. ^  Now  do  you  two  talk  of  bards  and  poetry,  if  not  of 
purses  and  claymores,  while  I  return  to  do  the  final  honors 
to  the  senators  of  the  tribe  of  Ivor."  So  saying,  he  left  the 
room. 

The  conversation  continued  between  Flora  and  Waverley ; 
for  two  well-dressed  young  women,  whose  character  seemed  to 
hover  between  that  of  companions  and  dependants,  took  no 
share  in  it.  They  were  both  pretty  girls,  but  served  only  as 
foils  to  the  grace  and  beauty  of  their  patroness.  The  discourse 
followed  the  turn  which  the  chieftain  had  given  it,  and  Waver- 
ley was  equally  amused  and  surprised  with  the  account  which 
the  lady  gave  him  of  Celtic  poetry. 

"The  recitation,"  she  said,  "of  poems,  recording  the  feats 
of  heroes,  the  complaints  of  lovers,  and  the  wars  of  contending 
tribes,  forms  the  chief  amusement  of  a  winter  fireside  in  the 
Highlands.  Some  of  these  are  said  to  be  very  ancient,  and  if 
they  are  ever  translated  ip*o  any  of  the  languages  of  civilized 


140 


IVAVEKLEY. 


Europe,  cannot  fail  to  produce  a  deep  and  general  sensatioty. 
Others  are  more  modern,  the  composition  of  those  family  bards 
whom  the  chieftains  of  more  distinguished  name  and  power  re- 
tain as  the  poets  and  historians  of  their  tribes.  These,  of 
course,  possess  various  degrees  of  merit ;  but  much  of  it  must 
evaporate  in  translation,  or  be  lost  on  those  who  do  not  sym- 
pathize with  the  feelings  of  the  poet." 

"  And  your  bard,  whose  effusions  seemed  to  produce  such 
effect  upon  the  company  to-day,  is  he  reckoned  among  the 
favorite  poets  of  the  mountains  ?  " 

"That  is  a  trying  question.  His  reputation  is  high  among 
his  countrymen,  and  you  must  not  expect  me  to  depreciate 
it."  ^ 

"  But  the  song,  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  seemed  to  awaken  all  those 
warriors,  both  young  and  old." 

"  The  song  is  little  more  than  a  catalogue  of  names  of  the 
Highland  clans  under  their  distinctive  peculiarities,  and  an  ex- 
hortation to  them  to  remember  and  to  emulate  the  actions  of. 
their  forefathers." 

"  And  am  I  wrong  in  conjecturing,  however  extraordinary 
the  guess  appears,  that  there  was  some  allusion  to  me  in  the 
verses  which  he  recited  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  quick  observation,  Captain  Waverley,  which 
in  this  instance  has  not  deceived  you.  The  Gaelic  language, 
being  uncommonly  vocalic,  is  well  adapted  for  sudden  and  ex- 
temporaneous poetry  ;  and  a  bard  seldom  fails  to  augment  the 
effects  of  a  premeditated  song,  by  throwing  in  any  stanzas 
which  may  be  suggested  by  the  circumstances  attending  the 
recitation." 

"  I  would  give  my  best  horse  to  know  what  the  Highland 
bard  could  find  to  say  of  such  an  unworthy  southron  as  m\'- 
self." 

"  It  shall  not  even  cost  you  a  lock  of  his  mane. — Una, 
Mavoiirneen  f  (She  spoke  a  few  words  to  one  of  the  young 
girls  in  attendance,  who  instantly  curtseyed,  and  tripped  out  of 
the  room.) — I  have  sent  Una  to  learn  from  the  bard  the  ex- 
pressions he  used,  and  you  shall  command  my  skill  as  drago 
man." 

Una  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  and  repeated  to  her  mis- 
tress a  few  lines  in  Gaelic.  Flora  seemed  to  think  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  slightly  coloring,  she  turned  to  Waverley— 
*'It  is  impossible  to  gratify  your  curiosity,  Captain  Waverley^ 
without  exposing  my  own  presumption.  If  you  will  give  me  a 
few  moments  for  consideration,  I  will  endeavor  to  engraft  the 


WAVERLEY.  I4I 

meaning  of  these  lines  upon  a  rude  English  translation,  which 
I  have  attempted,  of  a  part  of  the  original.  The  duties  of  the 
tea-table  seem  to  be  concluded,  and,  as  the  evenmg  is  delight- 
ful, Una  will  show  you  the  way  to  one  of  my  favorite  haunts, 
and  Cathleen  and  I  will  join  you  there." 

Una,  having  received  instructions  in  her  native  language, 
conducted  Waverley  out  by  a  passage  different  from  that 
through  which  he  had  entered  the  apartment.  At  a  distance 
he  heard  the  hall  of  the  chief  still  resounding  with  a  clang  of 
bagpipes  and  the  high  applause  of  his  guests.  Having  gained 
the  open  air  by  a  postern  door,  they  walked  a  little  way  up  the 
wild,  bleak,  and  narrow  valley  in  which  the  house  was  situated, 
following  the  course  of  the  stream  that  winded  through  it.  In 
a  spot,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  castle,  two  brooks, 
which  formed  the  little  river,  had  their  junction.  The  larger 
of  the  two  came  down  the  long  bare  valley,  which  extended, 
apparently  without  any  change  or  elevation  of  character,  as  far 
as  the  hills  which  formed  its  boundary  permitted  the  eye  to 
reach.  But  the  other  stream.,  which  had  its  source  among  the 
mountains  on  the  left  hand  of  the  strath,  seemed  to  issue  from 
a  very  narrow  and  dark  opening  betwixt  two  large  rocks. 
These  streams  were  different  also  in  character.  The  largew 
was  placid,  and  even  sullen  in  its  course,  wheeling  in  deep  ed- 
dies, or  sleeping  in  dark  blue  pools  :  but  the  motions  of  the 
lesser  brook  were  rapid  and  furious,  issuing  from  between  prec- 
ipices like  a  maniac  from  his  confinement,  all  foam  and  up- 
roar. 

It  was  up  the  course  of  this  last  stream  that  Waverley,  like 
a  knight  of  romance,  was  conducted  by  the  fair  Highland  dam- 
sel, his  silent  guide.  A  small  path,  which  had  been  rendered 
easy  in  many  places  for  Flora's  accommodation,  led  him  through 
scenery  of  a  very  different  description  from  tha^  which  he  had 
just  quitted.  Around  the  castle,  all  was  cold,  bare.,  and  desolate, 
yet  tame  even  in  desolation  ;  but  this  narrow  glen,  at  so  short 
a  distance,  seemed  to  open  into  tlie  land  of  romance.  The  rocks 
assumed  a  thousand  peculiar  and  varied  forms.  In  one  place, 
a  crag  of  huge  size  presented  its  gigantic  bulk,  as  if  to  forbid 
the  passenger's  farther  progress ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  ai> 
proached  its  very  base,  that  Waverley  discerned  the  sudden 
and  acute  turn  by  which  the  pathway  wheeled  its  course  around 
this  formidable  obstacle.  In  another  spot,  the  projecting 
rocks  from  the  opposite  side  ot  the  chasm  had  approached  so 
near  to  each  other,  that  two  pine-trees  laid  across,  and  covered 
with  turf,  formed  a  rustic  bridge  at  the  height  of  at  least  one 


t43 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


hundred  and  fifty  feet.  It  had  no  ledges,  and  was  barely  thre« 
feet  in  breadth. 

While  gazing  at  this  pass  of  peril,  which  crossed,  like  a 
single  black  line,  the  small  portion  of  blue  sky,  not  intercepted 
by  the  projecting  rocks  on  either  side,  it  was  with  a  sensation 
of  horror  that  Waverley  beheld  Flora  and  her  attendant  appear, 
like  inhabitants  of  another  region,  propped,  as  it  were,  in  mid 
air,  upon  this  trembling  structure.  She  stopped  upon  observ- 
ing him  below,  and,  with  an  air  of  graceful  ease,  which  made 
bim  shudder,  waved  her  handkerchief  to  him  by  way  of  signal. 
He  was  unable,  from  the  sense  of  dizziness  which  her  situation 
conveyed,  to  return  the  salute ;  and  was  never  more  relieved 
than  when  the  fair  apparition  passed  on  from  the  precarious 
eminence  which  she  seemed  to  occupy  with  so  much  indiffer- 
ence, and  disappeared  on  the  other  side. 

Advancing  a  few  yards,  and  passing  under  the  bridge  which 
he  had  viewed  with  so  much  terror,  the  path  ascended  rapidly 
from  the  edge  of  the  brook,  and  the  glen  widened  into  a  sylvan 
amphitheatre,  waving  with  birch,  young  oaks,  and  hazels,  with 
here  and  there  a  scattered  yew-tree.  The  rocks  now  receded, 
but  still  showed  their  gray  and  shaggy  crests  rising  among  the 
copsewood.  Still  higher,  rose  eminences  and  peaks,  some 
bare,  some  clothed  with  wood,  some  round  and  purple  with 
heath,  and  others,  splintered  into  rocks  and  crags.  At  a  short 
turning,  the  path,  which  had  for  some  furlongs  lost  sight  of  the 
brook,  suddenly  placed  Waverley  in  front  of  a  romantic  water- 
fall. It  was  not  so  remarkable  either  for  great  height  or 
quantity  of  water,  as  for  the  beautiful  accompaniments  which 
made  the  spot  interesting.  After  a  broken  cataract  of  about 
twenty  feet,  the  stream  was  received  in  a  large  natural  basin, 
filled  to  the  brim  with  water,  which,  where  the  bubbles  of  the 
fall  subsided,  was  so  exquisitely  clear,  that  although  it  was  of 
great  depth,  the  eye  could  discern  each  pebble  at  the  bottom. 
Eddying  round  this  reservoir,  the  brook  found  its  way  over 
a  broken  part  of  the  ledge,  and  formed  a  second  fall,  which 
seemed  to  seek  the  very  abyss  ;  then,  wheeling  out  beneath 
from  among  the  smooth  dark  rocks,  which  it  had  polished 
for  ages,  it  wandered  murmuring  down  the  glen,  forming  the 
stream  up  which  Waverley  had  just  ascended,^^  The  borders 
of  this  romantic  reservoir  corresponded  in  beauty ;  but  it  was 
beauty  of  a  stern  and  commanding  cast,  as  if  in  the  act  of  ex- 
panding into  grandeur.  Mossy  banks  of  turf  were  broken  and 
interrupted  by  huge  fragments  of  rock,  and  decorated  with  trees 
and  shrubs,  some  of  which  had  been  planted  under  the  direc 


WAVERLEY.  I^j 

don  of  Flora,  but  so  cautiously,  that  they  added  to  the  grace, 

without  diminishing  the  romantic  vvildness  of  the  scene. 

Here,  like  one  of  those  lovely  forms  which  decorate  the 
landscapes  of  Poussin,  Waverley  found  Flora  gazing  on  the 
wacer-fall.  Two  paces  farther  back  stood  Cathleen,  holding  a 
small  Scottish  harp,  the  use  of  which  had  been  taught  to  Flora 
by  Rory  Dall,  one  of  the  last  harpers  of  the  Western  High- 
lands. The  sun,  now  stooping  in  the  west,  gave  a  rich  and 
varied  tinge  to  all  the  objects  which  surrounded  Waverley,  and 
seemed  to  add  more  than  human  brilliancy  to  the  full  expres- 
sive darkness  of  Flora's  eye,  exalted  the  richness  and  purity  of 
her  complexion,  and  enhanced  the  dignity  and  grace  of  her 
beautiful  form.  Edward  thought  he  had  never,  even  in  his 
wildest  dreams,  imagined  a  figure  of  such  exquisite  and  inter- 
esting loveliness.  The  wild  beauty  of  the  retreat,  bursting 
upon  him  as  if  by  magic,  augmented  the  mingled  feeling  of  de- 
light and  awe  with  which  he  approached  her,  like  a  fair  enchan^ 
tress  of  Boiardo  or  Ariosto,  by  whose  nod  the  scenery  around 
seemed  to  have  been  created,  an  Eden  in  the  wilderness. 

Flora,  like  every  beautiful  woman,  was  conscious  of  her  own 
power,  and  pleased  with  its  effects,  which  she  could  easily  dis- 
cerii  from  the  respectful,  _  t  confused  address  of  the  young 
soldier.  But,  as  she  possessed  excellent  sense,  she  gave  the 
romance  of  the  scene,  and  other  accidental  circumstances,  full 
weight  in  appreciating  the  feelings  with  which  Waverley  seemed 
obviously  to  be  impressed  ;  and,  unacquainted  with  the  fanci- 
ful and  susceptible  peculiarities  of  his  character,  considered  his 
homage  as  the  passing  tribute  which  a  woman  of  even  inferior 
charms  might  have  expected  in  such  a  situation.  She  there- 
fore quietly  led  the  way  to  a  spot  at  such  a  distance  from  the 
cascade,  that  its  sound  should  rather  accompany  than  interrupt 
that  of  her  voice  and  instrument,  and,  sitting  down  upon  a 
mossy  fragment  of  rock,  she  took  the  harp  from  Cathleen. 

"  I  have  given  you  the  trouble  of,  walking  to  this  spot,  Cap- 
tain Waverley,  both  because  I  thought  the  scenery  would  in- 
terest you,  and  because  a  Highland  song  would  suffer  still  more 
from  my  imperfect  translation,  were  I  to  introduce  it  without 
its  own  wild  and  appropriate  accompaniments.  To  speak  in 
the  poetical  language  of  my  country,  the  seat  of  the  Celtic 
Muse  is  in  the  mist  of  the  secret  and  solitary  hill,  and  her  voice 
in  the  murmur  of  the  mountain  stream.  He  who  woos  her 
must  love  the  barren  rock  more  than  the  fertile  valley,  and  the 
solitude  of  the  desert  better  than  the  festivity  of  the  hall." 

Few  could  have  heard  this  lovely  woman  make  this  declara 


>44 


WAVERLEY. 


tion,  with  a  voice  where  harmony  was  exalted  by  pathos,  with" 
out  exclaiming  that  the  muse  whom  she  invoked  could  nevef 
find  a  more  appropriate  representative.  But  Waverley,  though 
the  thought  rushed  on  his  mind,  found  no  courage  to  utter  it. 
Indeed,  the  wild  feeling  of  romantic  delight,  with  which  he 
heard  the  first  few  notes  she  drew  from  her  instrument, 
amounted  almost  to  a  sense  of  pain.  He  would  not  for  worlds 
have  quitted  his  place  by  her  side  ;  yet  he  almost  longed  for 
solitude,  that  he  might  decipher  and  examine  at  leisure  the 
complication  of  emotions  which  now  agitated  his  bosom. 

Flora  had  exchanged  the  measured  and  monotonous  recita- 
tive of  the  bard  for  a  lofty  and  uncommon  Highland  air,  which 
had  been  a  battle-song  in  former  ages.  A  few  irregular  strains 
introduced  a  prelude  of  a  wild  and  peculiar  tone,  which  har- 
monized well  with  the  distant  water-fall,  and  the  soft  sigh  of  the 
evening  breeze  in  the  rustling  leaves  of  an  aspen  which  over- 
hung the  seat  of  the  fair  harpress.  The  following  verses  con- 
vey but  little  idea  of  the  feelings  with  which,  so  sung  and  ao* 
companied,  they  were  heard  by  Waverley  : 

BATTLE  SONG. 

There  is  mist  on  the  mountain,  and  night  on  the  vale^ 
But  more  dark  is  the  sleep  of  the  sons  of  the  GaeL 
A  stranger  commanded — it  sunlc  on  the  land, 
It  has  frozen  each  heart,  and  benumb'd  every  hand  I 

The  dirlc  and  the  target  lie  sordid  with  dust, 
The  bloodless  claymore  is  but  redden'd  with  rust ; 
,  On  the  hill  or  the  glen  if  a  gun  should  appear. 

It  is  only  to  war  with  the  heath-cock  or  deer. 

The  deeds  of  our  sires  if  our  bards  should  rehearse^ 
Let  a  blush  or  a  blow  be  the  meed  of  their  verse ; 
Be  mute  every  string,  and  be  hush'd  every  tone, 
That  shall  bid  us  remember  the  fame  that  has  flown. 

But  the  dark  hours  of  night  and  of  slumber  are  past, 
The  mom  on  our  mountains  is  dawning  at  last  • 
Glenaladale's  peaks  are  illumed  with  the  rays, 
And  the  streams  of  Glenfinnan  leap  bright  in  the  blaze.*" 

O  high-minded  Moray  1  '■^  the  exiled — the  dear  I — 
In  the  blush  of  the  dawning  the  Standard  uprear  ! 
Wide,  wide  on  the  winds  of  the  north  let  it  fly, 
Like  the  sun's  latest  flash  when  the  tempest  is  nigh  \ 

Ye  sons  of  the  strong,  when  that  dawning  shall  break. 
Need  the  harp  of  the  aged  remind  you  to  wake  ? 
That  dawn  never  beamed  on  your  forefathers'  eye, 
But  it  roused  each  high  chieftain  to  vanquish  or  die. 

O  sprung  from  the  Kings  who  in  Islay  kept  state, 
Proud  chiefs  of  Clan  Ranald,  Glengarry  and  Sleat ! 
Combine  like  three  streams  from  one  mountai"  a£  snotw 
^.nd  resist!**"  >"  union  rush  down  on  the  foe  I 


WAVER  LEY.  t4| 

fms  son  of  Sir  Evan,  tmdaunted  Lochiel, 
Place  thy  targe  on  thy  shoulder  and  burnish  thy  steel  i 
Rough  Keppoch,  give  breath  to  thy  bugle's  bold  swdl, 
Till  far  Coryarrick  resound  to  the  knell ! 

Stem  son  of  Lord  Kenneth,  high  chief  of  Kintail, 
Let  the  stag  in  thy  standard  bound  wild  in  the  gale 
May  the  race  of  Clan  Gillean,  the  fearless  and  free. 
Remember  Glenlivat,  Harlaw,  and  Dundee. 

Let  the  clan  of  gray  Fingon,  whose  offspring  has  gives 
Such  heroes  to  earth,  and  such  martyrs  to  heaven, 
Unite  with  the  race  of  renown'd  Rorri  More, 
To  launch  the  long  galley,  and  stretch  to  the  oar. 

How  Mac-Shimei  will  joy  when  their  chief  shall  (Ssi^ay 
The  yew-crested  bonnet  o'er  tresses  of  gray! 
How  the  race  of  wrong'd  Alpine  and  murder'd  Glenooe 
Shall  shout  for  revenge  when  they  pour  on  the  foe  I 

Ye  sons  of  brown  Dermid,  who  slew  the  wild  boar, 
Resume  the  pure  faith  of  the  great  Callum-Morc  I 
Mac-Neil  of  the  Islands,  and  Moy  of  the  Lake, 
For  honor,  for  freedom,  for  vengeance  awake  I 

Her-e  a  large  grayhound,  bounding  up  the  glen,  jumped 
upon  Flora,  and  interrupted  her  music  by  his  importunate  ca- 
resses. At  a  distant  whistle,  he  turned  and  shot  down  the  path 
again  with  the  rapidity  of  an  arrow.  "  That  is  Fergus's  faithful 
attendant,  Captain  Waverley,  and  that  was  his  signal.  He  likes 
no  poetry  but  what  is  humorous,  and  comes  in  good  time  to 
interrupt  my  long  catalogue  of  the  tribes,  whom  one  of  youf 
saucy  English  poets  calls 

Our  bootless  host  of  high-bom  beggars, 
Mac-Leans,  Mac-Kenzies,  and  Mac-Gregors." 

Waverley  expressed  his  regret  at  the  interruption. 

"  O  you  cannot  guess  how  much  you  have  lost  I  The  bard, 
as  in  duty  bound,  has  addressed  three  long  stanzas  to  Vich  Ian 
Vohr  of  the  Banners,  enumerating  all  his  great  properties,  and 
not  forgetting  his  being  a  cheerer  of  the  harper  and  bard — •  a 
giver  of  bounteous  gifts.'  Besides,  you  should  have  heard  a 
practical  admonition  to  the  fair-haired  son  of  the  stranger,  who 
lives  in  the  land  where  the  grass  is  always  green — the  rider  on 
the  shining  pampered  steed,  whose  hue  is  like  the  raven,  and 
whose  nciyh  is  like  the  scream  of  the  eagle  for  battle.  Thii» 
valiant  liorseman  is  affectionately  conjured  to  remember  that 
his  ancestors  were  distinguished  by  their  loyalty,  as  well  as  by 
their  courage. — All  this  you  have  lost ;  but,  since  your  curiosity 
is  not  satisfied,  I  judge,  from  ilic  distant  sound  of  my  brother'f 


146 


WAVERLEy. 


whistle,  I  may  have  time  to  sing  tbe  conc''ad'.<i^  wsi«izas  befoM 
he  comes  to  laugh  at  my  translation." 

Avake  on  y^iir  hills,  on  your  islands  awaJ«*, 
Brave  sons  of  the  mountain,  tlie  frith,  aivi  the  lake, 
*Tis  Oie  bu<;(e — but  not  for  the  chasL-  is  the  ca!f ; 
'Tis  the  pibroch's  shrill  summons — but  not  to  tlis  hall. 

'Tis  the  summons  of  heroes  for  conquest  or  death, 
When  the  banners  are  blazing  on  mountain  and  heath  \ 
They  call  to  the  dirk,  the  claymore,  and  the  targe, 
To  the  march  and  the  muster,  the  Une  and  the  charge. 

Be  the  brand  of  each  cliieftain  like  Fin's  in  his  ire  I 
May  the  blood  through  his  veins  flow  like  currents  of  fii». 
Burst  the  base  foreign  yoke  as  your  sires  did  of  yor^ 
Or  die  like  your  sixes,  and  end'^-e  it  no  more  I 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THIRD. 

WAVERLEY  CONTINUES   AT  GLENNAQUOICH. 

>^  5^1ora  concluded  her  song,  Fergus  stood  before  them, 
"  /  knew  I  should  find  you  here,  even  without  the  assistance  of 
■fty  friend  Bran.  A  simple  and  unsublimed  taste  now,  like  my 
owQ,  would  prefer  a  jet  d'eau  at  Versailles  to  this  cascade,  with 
all  its  accompaniments  of  rock  and  roar ;  but  this  is  Flora's 
Parnassus,  Captain  Waverley,  and  that  fountain  her  Helicon. 
It  would  be  greatly  for  the  benefit  of  my  cellar  if  she  could 
leach  her  coadjutor,  Mac-Murrough,  the  value  of  its  influence  : 
he  has  just  drunk  a  pint  of  usquebaugh  to  correct,  he  said,  the 
coldness  of  the  claret — Let  me  try  its  virtues."  He  sipped  a 
little  water  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  immediately  com- 
nenced,  with  a  theatrical  air  : — • 

"  O  Lady  of  the  desert,  hail  I 
That  lovest  the  harping  of  the  Gael, 
Through  fair  and  fertile  regions  bom^ 
Where  never  yet  grew  grass  or  com. 

But  English  poetry  will  never  succeed  under  the  iRfluence  of  4 
Highland  Helicon — AUons^  courage — 

O  vous,  qui  buvez,  &  tasse  pleine, 
A  cette  heureuse  fontaine. 
Oh  on  ne  voit,  sur  le  rivage, 

Que  quelques  vilains  troupeaio, 
Euivis  de  nymphes  de  village. 

Qui  les  escortent  sans  sabots'*— 


WAVERLBY^ 


M? 


**  A  truce,  dear  Fergus !  spare  as  those  most  tedious  and 
insipid  persons  of  all  Arcadia.  Do  not,  for  Heaven's  sake, 
bring  down  Coridon  and  Lindor  upon  us." 

"  Nay,  if  you  cannot  relish  la  houlette  et  le  chalumeau,  have 
with  you  in  heroic  strains." 

"  Dear  Fergus,  you  have  certainly  partaken  of  the  inspira* 
tion  of  Mac-Murrough's  cup,  rather  than  of  mine." 

"  I  disclaim  it,  ma  belle  demoiselle^  although  I  protest  it  would 
be  the  more  congenial  of  the  two.  Which  of  your  crack-brained 
Italian  romancers  is  it  that  says, 

lo  d'Elicona  niente 
Mi  euro,  in  fe  de  Dio,  che'l  bere  d'acque 
(Beachi  ber  ne  vuol)  sempre  mi  spiacque  1  • 

But  if  you  prefer  the  Gaelic,  Captain  Waverley,  here  is  little 

Cathleen  shall  sing  you  Drimmindhu. — Come  Cathleen,  astort 
(/.  e.  my  dear),  begin  ;  no  apologies  to  the  Cean  Kinne." 

Cathleen  sung  with  much  liveliness  a  little  Gaelic  song,  the 
burlesque  elegy  of  a  countryman  upon  the  loss  of  his  cow,  the 
comic  tones  of  which,  though  he  did  not  understand  the  lan- 
guage, made  Waverley  laugh  more  than  once." 

"  Admirable,  Cathleen  !  "  cried  the  Chieftain  ;  "  I  must  find 
you  a  handsome  husband  among  the  clansmen  one  of  these 
days." 

Cathleen  laughed,  bluslied,  and  sheltered  herself  behind  hei 
companion. 

In  the  progress  of  their  return  to  the  castle,  the  Chieftain 
warmly  pressed  Waverley  to  remain  for  a  week  or  two,  in  order 
to  see  a  grand  hunting  party,  in  which  he  and  some  other  High- 
land gentlemen  proposed  to  join.  The  charms  of  melody  and 
beauty  were  too  strongly  impressed  in  Edward's  breast  to  per- 
mit his  declining  an  invitation  so  pleasing.  It  was  agreed, 
therefore,  that  he  should  write  a  note  to  the  Baron  of  Bradwar- 
dine,  expressing  his  intention  to  stay  a  fortnight  at  Glenna- 
quoich,  and  requesting  him  to  forward  by  the  bearer  (^  gilly  of 
the  Chieftain's)  any  letters  which  might  have  arrived  for  him. 

Tliis  turned  the  discourse  upon  the  Baron,  whom  Fergus 
highly  extolled  as  a  gentleman  and  soldier.  His  character  was 
touched  with  )'et  more  discrimination  by  Flora,  who  observed 
he  was  the  very  model  of  the  old  Scottish  cavalier,  with  all  his 
excellences  and  peculiarities.  "It  is  a  character,  Captain 
Waverley,  which  is  fast  disappearing  j  for  its  best  point  was  a 
Belf-respect  which  was  never  lost  sight  of  till  now.     But  in  the 

*  Good  sootli,  1  reck  nougnt  of  your  Helicon  ; 

'  Drink  water  wlioso  will,  in  faith  I  Will  drink  none- 


148  IVAJ^ERLEV. 

present  time,  the  genilemen  whose  principles  do  not  permit 
them  to  pay  court  to  the  existing  government,  are  neglected  and 
degraded,  and  many  conduct  themselves  accordingly;  and, 
like  some  of  the  persons  you  have  seen  at  TuUy-Veolan,  adopt 
habits  and  companions  inconsistent  with  their  birir  and  breed- 
ing. The  ruthless  proscription  of  party  seems  to  degrade  the 
victims  wnom  it  brands,  however  unjustly,  .^ut  let  us  hope  that  a 
brighter*day  is  approaching,  when  a  Scottish  country-gentleman 
may  be  a  scholar  without  the  pedantry  of  our  friend  the  Baron, 
a  sportsman  without  the  low  habits  of  Mr.  Falconer,  and  a  ju- 
dicious improver  of  his  property  without  becoming  a  boorish 
two-legged  steer  like  Killancureit." 

Thus  did  Flora  prophecy  a  revolution,  which  time  indeed 
has  produced,  but  in  a  manner  very  different  from  what  she 
had  in  her  mind. 

The  amiable  Rose  was  next  mentioned,  with  the  warmest 
encomium  on  her  person,  manners,  and  mind.  "  That  man," 
said  Flora,  "  will  find  an  inestimable  treasure  in  the  affections 
of  Rose  Bradwardine,  who  shall  be  so  fortunate  as  to  become 
their  object.  Her  very  soul  is  in  home,  and  in  the  discharge 
of  all  those  quiet  virtues  of  which  home  is  the  centre.  Her 
husband  will  be  to  her  what  her  father  now  is,  the  object  of  all 
her  care,  solicitude,  and  affection.  She  will  see  nothing,  and 
connect  herself  with  nothing,  but  by  him  and  through  him. 
If  he  is  a  man  of  sense  and  virtue,  she  will  sympathize  in  his 
sorrows,  divert  his  fatigue,  and  share  his  pleasures.  If  she 
becomes  the  property  of  a  churlish  or  negligent  husband,  she 
will  suit  his  taste  also,  for  she  will  not  long  survive  his  unkind- 
ness.  And,  alas !  how  great  is  the  chance  that  some  such 
unworthy  lot  may  be  that  of  my  poor  friend  ! — O  that  I  were 
a  queen  this  moment,  and  could  command  the  most  amiable 
and  worthy  youth  of  my  kingdom  to  accept  happiness  with 
the  hand  of  Rose  Bradwardine  !" 

"  I  wish  you  would  command  her  to  accept  mine  en  aitetid- 
ant,  "  said  Fergus,  laughing. 

I  don't  know  by  what  caprice  it  was  that  this  wish,  ho^vever 
jocularly  expressed,  rather  jarred  on  Edward's  feelings,  not- 
withstanding his  growing  inclination  to  Flora,  and  his  in- 
difference to  Miss  Bradwardine.  This  is  one  of  the  inexplica- 
bilitiesof  human  nature,  which  we  leave  without  comment. 

"  Your's,  brother?  "  answered  Flora,  regarding  him  steadily. 
^  No  ;  you  have  another  bride — Honor  ;  and  the  dangers  you 
must  run  in  pursuit  of  her  rival  would  break  poor  Rose'? 
heart. " 


WAVERLEY, 


140 


With  this  discourse  they  reached  the  castle,  and  Waverley 
soon  prepared  his  despatches  for  Tully-Veolan.  As  he  knew 
the  Baron  was  punctilious  in  such  matters,  he  was  about  to 
impress  his  billet  with  a  seal  on  which  his  armorial  bearings 
<vere  engraved,  but  he  did  not  find  it  at  his  watch,  and  thought 
he  must  have  left  it  at  Tully-Veolan.  He  mentioned  his  loss, 
borrowing  at  the  same  time  the  family  seal  of  the  Chieftain. 

*'  Surely,  "  said  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  "  Donald  Bean  Lean  would 
not " 

"  My  life  for  him,  in  such  circumstances,"  answered  her 
brother ;  "  besides,  he  would  never  have  left  the  watch  behind.  " 

"  After  all,  Fergus,"  said  Flora,  "  and  with  every  allowance, 
I  am  surprised  you  can  countenance  that  man." 

"  I  countenance  him  ? — This  kind  sister  of  mine  would 
persuade  you.  Captain  Waverley,  that  I  take  what  the  people  of 
old  used  to  call  a  '  steak-raid,'  that  is,  a  '  collop  of  the  foray,* 
or,  in  plainer  words,  a  portion  of  the  robber's  booty,  paid  by 
him  to  the  laird,  or  chief,  through  whose  grounds  he  drove  his 
prey.  O  it  is  certain,  that  unless  I  can  find  some  way  to 
charm  Flora's  tongue.  General  Blakeney  will  send  a  Serjeant's 
party  from  Stirling  (this  he  said  with  haughty  and  emphatic 
irony)  to  seize  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  as  they  nickname  me,  in  his 
own  castle." 

"  Now,  Fergus,  must  not  our  guest  be  sensible  that  all  this 
is  folly  and  affectation  ?  You  have  men  enough  to  serve  you 
without  enlisting  banditti,  and  your  own  honor  is  above  taint 
• — Why  don't  you  send  this  Donald  Bean  Lean,  whom  I  hate 
for  his  smoothness  and  duplicity,  even  more  than  for  his  rapine, 
out  of  your  country  at  once  ?  No  cause  should  induce  me  to 
tolerate  such  a  character." 

"iVb  cause.  Flora?  "  said  the  Chieftain,  significantly. 

"  A^  cause,  Fergus  !  not  even  that  which  is  nearest  to  my 
heart.     Spare  it  the  omen  of  such  evil  supporters  !  " 

"O  but,  sister,"  rejoined  the  Chief,  gayly,  "you  don't 
consider  my  respect  for  la  belle  passion.  Evan  Dhu  Mac- 
combich  is  in  love  with  Donald's  daughter,  Alice,  and  you 
cannot  expect  me  to  disturb  him  in  his  amours.  Why,  the 
whole  clan  would  cry  shame  on  me.  You  know  it  is  one  of 
their  wise  sayings,  that  a  kinsman  is  part  of  a  man's  body,  but 
a  foster-brother  is  a  piece  of  his  heart." 

"  Well,  Fergus,  there  is  no  disputing  with  you  ;  but  I  would 
all  this  may  end  well." 

*'  Devoutly  prayed,  my  dear  and  prophetic  sister,  and  the 
best  way  in  the  world  to  close  a  dubious  argument. — But  heaj 


«So 


IVAVERLEY. 


ye  not  the  pipes,  Captain  Waverley  ?  Perhaps  you  will  like 
better  to  dance  to  them  in  the  hall,  than  to  be  deafened  with 
their  harmony  without  taking  part  in  the  exercise  they  invite 
us  to." 

Waverley  took  Flora's  hand.  The  dance,  song,  and  merry- 
making proceeded,  and  closed  the  day's  entertainment  at  the 
castle  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr.  Edward  at  length  retired,  his  mind 
agitated  by  a  variety  of  new  and  conflicting  feelings,  which 
detained  him  from  rest  for  some  time  in  that  not  unpleasing 
state  of  mind  in  which  fancy  takes  the  helm,  and  the  soul 
rather  drifts  passively  along  with  the  rapid  and  confused  tide 
of  reflections,  than  exerts  itself  to  encounter,  systematize,  or 
examine  them.  At  a  late  hour  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  of 
Flora  Mac-Ivor. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FOUR. 

A   STAG-HUNT   AND    ITS   CONSEQUENCES 

Shall  this  be  a  long  or  a  short  chapter  ? — This  is  a  question 
in  which  you,  gentle  reader,  have  no  vote,  however  much  you  may 
be  interested  in  the  consequences;  just  as  you  may  (like  my^ 
self)  probably  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  imposing  a  new  tax, 
excepting  the  trifling  circumstance  of  being  obliged  to  pay  it. 
More  happy  surely  in  the  present  case,  since,  though  it  lies 
within  my  arbitrary  power  to  extend  my  materials  as  I  think 
proper,  I  cannot  call  you  into  Exchequer  if  you  do  not  think 
proper  to  read  my  narrative.  Let  me  therefore  consider.  It 
is  true,  that  the  annals  and  documents  in  my  hands  say  but 
little  of  this  Highland  chase ;  but  then  I  can  find  copious 
materials  for  description  elsewhere.  There  is  old  Lindsay  of 
Pitscottie  ready  at  my  elbow,  with  his  Athole  hunting,  and  his 
"  lofted  and  joisted  palace  of  green  timber ;  with  all  kind  of 
drink  to  be  had  in  burgh  and  land,  as  ale,  beer,  wine,  musca- 
del,  malvaise,  hippocras,  and  aquavitae  ;  with  wheat-bread,  main- 
bread,  gingerbread,  beef,  mutton,  lamb,  veal,  venison,  goose, 
grice,  capon,  coney,  crane,  swan,  partridge,  plover,  duck,  drake, 
brissell-cock,  pawnies,  black-cock,  muir-fowl,  and  capercail- 
zies;" not  forgetting  the  "  costly  bedding,  vaisellcj  and  napr}'," 
and  least  of  all  the  "  excelling  stewards,  cunning  baxters,  excel* 


WAVERLEY.  15  f 

lent  cooks,  and  pottlngars,  with  confections  and  drugs  for  the 
desserts."  Besides  the  particulars  which  may  be  thence  gleaned 
from  this  Highland  feast  (the  splendor  of  which  induced  the 
Pope's  legate  to  dissent  from  an  opinion  which  he  had  hitherto 
held,  that"  Scotland,  namely,  was  the — the — the  latter  end  of 
the  world) — besides  these,  might  I  not  illuminate  my  pages 
with  Taylor  the  Water  Poet's  hunting  in  the  braes  of  Mar'  where 

"  Through  heather,  mosse,  'mong  frogs,  and  bogs,  and  fogs 

'  Mongst  craggy  cliffs  and  thunder-battered  hills, 
Hares,  hinds,  bucks,  roes,  are  chased  by  men  and  dogs. 

Where  two  hours  hunting  fourscore  fat  deer  kills. 
Lowland,  your  sports  are  low  as  is  your  seat; 

The  Highland  games  and  minds  are  high  and  great" 

But  without  further  tyranny  over  my  readers,  or  display  of 
the  extent  of  my  own  reading,  I  shall  content  myself  with  bor- 
rowing a  single  incident  from  the  memorable  hunting  at  Lude, 
commemorated  in  the  ingenious  Mr.  Gunn's  Essay  on  the 
Caledonian  Harp,  and  so  proceed  in  my  story  with  all  the 
brevity  that  my  natural  style  of  composition,  partaking  of  what 
scholars  call  the  periphrastic  and  ambagitory,  and  the  vulgar 
the  circumbendibus,  will  permit  me. 

The  solemn  hunting  was  delayed,  from  various  causes,  fov 
about  three  weeks.  The  interval  was  spent  by  Waverley  witk 
great  satisfaction  at  Glennaquoich ;  for  the  impression  which 
Flora  had  made  on  his  mind  at  their  first  meeting  grew  daily 
stronger.  She  was  precisely  the  character  to  fascinate  a  youth 
of  romantic  imagination.  Her  manners,  her  language,  her  tal- 
ents for  poetry  and  music,  gave  additional  and  varied  influence 
to  her  eminent  personal  charms.  Even  in  her  hours  of  gayety, 
she  was  in  his  fancy  exalted  above  the  ordinary  daughters  of 
Eve,  and  seemed  only  to  stoop  for  an  instant  to  those  topics 
of  amusement  and  gallantry  which  others  appeared  to  live 
for.  In  the  neighborhood  of  this  enchantress,  while  sport 
consumed  the  morning,  and  music  and  the  dance  led  on  the 
hours  of  evening,  Waverley  became  daily  more  delighted  with 
his  hospitable  landlord,  and  more  enamoured  of  his  bewitching 
sister. 

At  length  the  period  fixed  for  the  grand  hunting  arrived, 
and' Waverley  and  the  Chieftain  departed  for  the  place  of  ren- 
dezvous, which  was  a  day's  journey  to  the  northward  of  Glen- 
naquoich. Fergus  was  attended  on  this  occasion  by  about 
three  hundred  of  his  clan,  well  armed,  and  accoutred  in  their 
best  fashion.  Waverley  complied  so  far  with  the  custom  of 
the  country  as  to  adopt  the  trews  (he  could  not  be  reconciled 


I  J,  WAVER  LEV. 

to  the  V\\\),  brogues  and  bonnet,  as  the  fittest  dress  for  the  e» 
ercise  in  which  he  was  to  be  engaged,  and  which  least  exposed 
him  to  be  stared  at  as  a  stranger  when  they  should  reach  the 
place  of  rendezvous.  They  found,  on  the  spot  appointed, 
several  powerful  Chiefs,  to  all  of  whom  Waverley  was  formally 
presented,  and  by  all  cordially  received.  Their  vassals  and 
clansmen,  a  part  of  whose  feudal  duty  it  was  to  attend  on  these 
parties,  appeared  in  such  numbers  as  amounted  to  a  small 
army.  These  active  assistants  spread  through  the  country  far 
and  near,  forming  a  circle,  technically  called  the  tinchel,  which, 
gradually  closing,  drove  the  deer  in  herds  together  towards  the 
glen  where  the  Chiefs  and  principal  sportsmen  lay  in  wait  for 
them.  In  the  meanwhile,  these  distinguished  personages  bivou- 
acked among  the  flower}^  heath,  wrapped  up  in  their  plaids  ;  a 
mode  of  passing  a  summer's  night  which  Waverley  found  by  no 
means  unpleasant. 

For  many  hours  after  sunrise,  the  mountain  ridges  and 
passes  retained  their  ordinar}'  appearance  of  silence  and  soli* 
tude,  and  the  Chiefs,  with  their  followers,  amused  themselves 
with  various  pastimes,  in  which  the  joys  of  the  shell,  as  Ossian 
has  it,  were  not  forgotten.  "  Others  apart  sate  on  a  hill  re 
tired  ; "  probably  as  deeply  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  poll 
tics  and  news,  as  Milton's  spirits  in  metaphysical  disquisition. 
At  length  signals  of  the  approach  of  the  game  were  descried 
and  heard.  Distant  shouts  resounded  from  valley  to  valley,  as 
the  various  parties  of  Highlanders,  climbing  rocks,  struggling 
through  copses,  wading  brooks,  and  traversing  thickets,  ap- 
proached more  and  more  near  to  each  other,  and  compelled  the 
astonished  deer,  with  the  other  wild  animals  that  fled  before 
them,  into  a  narrower  circuit.  Every  now  and  then  the  report 
of  muskets  was  heard,  repeated  by  a  thousand  echoes.  The 
baying  of  the  dogs  w'as  soon  added  to  the  chorus,  which  grew 
ever  louder  and  more  loud.  At  length  the  advanced  parties  of 
the  deer  began  to  show  themselves,  and  as  the  stragglers  came 
bounding  down  the  pass  by  two  or  three  at  a  time,  the  Chiefs 
showed  their  skill  by  distinguishing  the  fattest  deer,  and  their 
dexterity  in  bringing  them  down  with  their  guns.  Fergus  ex- 
hibited remarkable  address,  and  Edward  was  also  so  fortunate 
as  to  attract  the  notice  and  applause  of  the  sportsmen. 

But  now  the  main  body  of  the  deer  appeared  at  the  head  of 
the  glen,  compelled  into  a  very  narrow  compass,  and  presenting 
such  a  formidable  phalanx,  that  their  antlers  appeared  at  a  dis- 
tance over  the  ridge  of  the  steep  pass  like  a  leafless  grove. 
Their  number  was  very  great,  and  from  a  desperate  stand  whicb 


WAV^RLSY. 


I  $3 


they  made,  with  the  tallest  of  the  red-deer  stags  arranged 
in  front  in  a  sort  of  a  battle  array,  gazing  on  the  group  which 
barred  their  passage  down  the  glen,  the  more  experienced  sports- 
men began  to  augur  danger.  The  work  of  destruction,  however, 
now  commenced  on  all  sides.  Dogs  and  hunters  were  at  work, 
and  muskets  and  fusees  resounded  from  every  quarter.  The 
deei;  driven  to  desperation,  made  at  length  a  fearful  charge 
right  upon  the  spot  where  the  more  distinguished  sportsmen 
had  taken  their  stand.  The  word  was  given  in  Gaelic  to  fling 
themselves  upon  their  faces  ;  but  Waverley,  on  whose  English 
ears  the  signal  was  lost,  had  almost  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  his  ig- 
norance of  the  ancient  language  in  which  it  was  communicated. 
Fergus,  observing  his  danger,  sprung  up  and  pulled  him  with 
violence  to  the  ground,  just  as  the  whole  herd  broke  down  upon 
them.  The  tide  being  absolutely  irresistible,  and  wounds  from 
a  stag's  horn  highly  dangerous,  *^  the  activity  of  the  Chieftain 
may  be  considered,  on  this  occasion,  as  having  saved  his  guest's 
life.  He  detained  him  with  a  firm  grasp  until  the  whole  herd 
of  deer  had  fairly  run  over  them.  Waverley  then  attempted  to 
rise,  but  found  that  he  had  suffered  several  very  severe  contu- 
sions, and  upon  a  further  examination  discovered  that  he  had 
sprained  his  ancle  violently. 

This  checked  the  mirth  of  the  meeting,  although  the  High- 
landers, accustomed  to  such  incidents,  and  prepared  for  them, 
had  suffered  no  harm  themselves.  A  wigwam  was  erected 
almost  in  an  instant,  where  Edward  was  deposited  on  a  couch 
of  heather.  The  surgeon,  or  he  who  assumed  the  ofBce,  ap- 
peared to  unite  the  characters  of  a  leech  and  a  conjuror.  He 
was  an  old  smoke-dried  Highlander,  wearing  a  venerable  gray 
beard,  and  having  for  his  sole  garment  a  tartan  frock,  the  skirt 
of  which  descended  to  the  knee,  and,  being  undivided  in  front, 
made  the  vestment  serve  at  once  for  a  doublet  and  breeches.  ^^ 
He  observed  great  ceremony  in  approaching  Edward  ;  and 
though  our  hero  was  writhing  with  pain,  would  not  proceed  to 
any  operation  which  might  assuage  it  until  he  had  perambu- 
lated his  couch  three  times,  moving  from  east  to  west,  accord 
ing  to  the  course  of  the  sun.  This,  which  was  called  making 
the  deasil,  both  the  leech  and  the  assistants  seemed  to  consider 
as  a  matter  of  the  last  importance  to  the  accomplishment  of  a 
cure  ;  and  Waverley,  whom  pain  rendered  incapable  of  expostu- 
lation, and  who  indeed  saw  no  chance  of  its  being  attended  to, 
submitted  in  silence. 

After  this  ceremony  was  duly  performed,  the  old  Esculapius 
let  his  patient's  blood  with  a  cupping-glass  with  great  dexterity, 


Ij^  WAVER  LEY. 

and  proceeded,  muttering  all  tlie  while  to  himself  in  GaeliCj  tf 
boil  upon  the  fire  certain  herbs,  with  which  he  compounded  an 
embrocation.  He  then  fomented  the  parts  which  had  sustained 
injury,  never  failing;  to  murmur  prayers  or  spells,  which  of  tha 
two  Waverley  could  not  distinguish,  as  his  ear  only  caught  the 
words  Gasper-Mdchior-Balthazar-max-prax-fax,  and  similar  gib 
berish.  The  fomentation  had  a  speedy  effect  in  alleviating  the 
pain  and  swelling,  which  our  hero  imputed  to  the  virtue  of  the 
herbs,  or  the  effect  of  the  chafing,  but  which  was  by  the  bystand- 
ers unanimously  ascribed  to  the  spells  with  which  the  operation 
had  been  accompanied.  Edward  was  given  to  understand,  that 
not  one  of  the  ingredieuts  had  been  gathered  except  during  tha 
full  moon,  and  that  the  herbalist  had  while  collecting  them, 
uniformly  recited  a  charm,  which,  in  English,  ran  thus : 

Hail  to  thee,  tliou  holy  herb, 
That  sprung  on  holy  ground  I 
All  in  the  Mount  Olivet 
First  wert  thou  found : 
Thou  art  boot  for  many  a  bruise, 
And  healest  many  a  wound ; 
In  our  Lady's  blessed  name, 
I  take  thee  from  the  ground.  * 

Edward  observed,  with  some  surprise,  that  even  Fergus, 

notwithstanding  his  knowledge  and  education,  seemed  to  fall 
in  with  the  superstitious  ideas  of  his  countr}'men,  either  be- 
cause he  deemed  it  impolitic  to  affect  skepticism  on  a  matter 
of  general  belief,  or  more  probably  1  ■'^uise,  like  most  men  who 
do  not  think  deeply  or  accurately  on  i^uch  subjects,  he  had  in 
his  mind  a  reserve  of  superstition  which  balanced  the  freedom 
of  his  expressions  and  practice  upon  other  occasions.  Waver- 
ley made  no  commentary,  therefore,  on  the  manner  of  the 
treatment,  but  rewarded  the  professor  of  medicine  with  a 
liberality  beyond  the  utmost  conception  of  his  wildest  hopes. 
He  uttered,  on  the  occasion,  so  many  incoherent  blessings  in 
Gaelic  and  English,  that  Mac-Ivor,  rather  scandalized  at  the 
excess  of  his  acknowledgments,  cut  them  short,  by  exclaiming, 
Ceud  miJe  mhalloich  ort  I  i.  e.,  "  A  hundred  thousand  curses 
on  you  !  "  and  so  pushed  the  helper  of  men  out  of  the  cabin. 

_  After  Waverley  was  left  alone,  the  exhaustion  of  pain  and 
fatigue — for  the  whole  day's  exercise  had  been  severe — threw 
him  into  a  profound,  but  yet  a  feverish  sleep,  which  he  chieflj 
owed  to  an  opiate  draught  administered  by  the  old  High- 
lander, from  some  decoction  of  herbs  in  his  pharmacopoeia. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  purpose  of  their  meeting  being 
over,  and  their  sports  damped  by  the  untoward  accident,  il 


tVAyEXLEV.  t%% 

which  Fergus  and  all  his  friends  expressed  the  greatest  sym- 
pathy, it  became  a  question  how  to  dispose  of  the  disabled 
sportsman.  This  was  settled  by  Mac-Ivor,  who  had  a  litter 
prepared,  of  "  birch  and  hazel  gray,"  *'  which  was  borne  by  his 
people  with  such  caution  and  dexterity  as  renders  it  not  im- 
probable that  they  may  have  been  the  ancestors  of  some  of 
those  sturdy  Gael,  who  have  now  the  happiness  to  transport 
the  belles  of  Edinburgh  in  their  sedan-chairs,  to  ten  routs  in 
one  evening.  When  Edward  was  elevated  upon  their  shoul- 
ders, he  could  not  help  being  gratified  with  the  romantic  effect 
produced  by  the  breaking  up  of  this  sylvan  camp.^" 

The  various  tribes  assembled,  each  at  the  pibroch  of  their 
native  clan,  and  each  headed  by  their  patriarchal  ruler.  Some, 
who  had  already  begun  to  retire,  were  seen  winding  up  the 
hills,  or  descending  the  passes  which  led  to  the  scene  of  action, 
the  sound  of  their  bagpipes  dying  upon  the  ear.  Others  made 
still  a  moving  picture  upon  the  narrow  plain,  forming  various 
changeful  groups,  their  feathers  and  loose  plaids  waving  in  the 
morning  breeze,  and  their  arms  glittering  in  the  rising  sun. 
Most  of  the  chiefs  came  to  take  farewell  of  Waverley,  and  to 
express  their  anxious  hope  they  might  again,  and  speedily, 
meet ;  but  the  care  of  Fergus  abridged  the  ceremony  of  taking 
leave.  At  length,  his  own  men  being  completely  assembled 
and  mustered,  Mac-Ivor  commenced  his  march,  but  not  to- 
wards the  quarter  from  which  they  had  come.  He  gave  Edward 
to  understand  that  the  greater  part  of  his  followers,  now 
sn  the  field,  were  bound  on  a  distant  expedition,  and  that  when 
he  had  deposited  him  in  the  house  of  a  gentleman,  who  he  was 
sure  would  pay  him  every  attention,  he  himself  should  be  under 
the  necessity  of  accompanying  them  the  greater  part  of  the 
way,  but  would  lose  no  time  in  rejoining  his  friend. 

Waverley  was  rather  surprised  that  Fergus  had  not  nTen- 
tioned  this  ulterior  destination  when  they  set  out  upon  the 
hunting-party  ;  but  his  situation  did  not  admit  of  many  inter- 
rogatories. The  greater  part  of  the  clansmen  went  forward 
under  the  guidance  of  old  Ballenkeiroch,  and  Evan  Dim  Mac- 
combich,  apparently  in  high  spirits.  A  few  remained  for  the 
purpose  of  escorting  the  Chieftain,  who  walked  by  the  side  of 
Edward's  litter,  and  attended  him  with  the  most  affectionate 
assiduity.  About  noon,  after  a  journey  which  the  nature  of 
the  conveyance,  the  pain  of  his  bruises,  and  the  roughness  of 
the  way,  rendered  inexpressibly  painful,  Waverley  was  hospi 
tably  received  into  the  house  of  a  gentleman  related  to  Fergus, 
who  had  prepared  for  him  every  accommodation  which  tha 


»5^ 


WAVER  LEY 


simple  habits  of  living  then  universal  in  the  Highlands,  put  xk 
his  power.  In  this  person,  an  old  man  about  seventy,  Edward 
admired  a  relic  of  primitive  simplicity.  He  wore  no  dress  but 
what  his  estate  afforded  ;  the  cloth  was  the  fleece  of  his  own 
sheep,  woven  by  his  own  servants,  and  stained  into  tartan  by 
the  dyes  produced  from  the  herbs  and  lichens  of  the  hills 
around  him.  His  linen  was  spun  by  his  daughters  and  maid- 
ser\'ants,  from  his  own  flax,  nor  did  his  table,  though  plentiful, 
and  varied  with  game  and  fish,  offer  an  article  but  what  was  of 
native  produce. 

Claiming  himself  no  rights  of  clanship  or  vassalage,  he  was 
fortunate  in  the  alliance  and  protection  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  and 
other  bold  and  enterprising  chieftains,  who  protected  him  in 
the  quiet  unambitious  life  he  loved.  It  is  true,  the  youth  born 
on  his  grounds  were  often  enticed  to  leave  him  for  the  service 
of  his  more  active  friends ;  but  a  few  old  servants  and  tenants 
used  to  shake  their  gray  locks  when  they  heard  their  master 
censured  for  want  of  spirit,  and  observed,  "When  the  wind  is 
still,  the  shower  falls  soft."  This  good  old  man,  whose  charity 
and  hospitality  were  unbounded,  would  have  received  Waver- 
ley  with  kindness,  had  he  been  the  meanest  Saxon  peasant, 
since  his  situation  required  assistance.  But  his  attention  to  a 
friend  and  guest  of  Vich  Ian  A^ohr  was  anxious  and  unremitted. 
Other  embrocations  were  applied  to  the  injured  limb,  and  new 
spells  were  put  in  practice.  At  length,  after  more  solicitude 
than  was  perhaps  for  the  advantage  of  his  health,  Fergus  took 
farewell  of  Edward  for  a  few  days,  when,  he  said,  he  would 
return  to  Tomanrait,  and  hoped  by  that  time  \\'averley  would 
be  able  to  ride  one  of  the  Highland  ponies  of  his  landlord,  and 
in  that  manner  return  to  Glennaquoich. 

The  next  day,  when  his  good  old  host  appeared,  Edward 
learned  that  his  friend  had  departed  with  the  dawn,  leaving 
none  of  his  followers  except  Galium  Beg,  the  sort  of  foot-page 
who  used  to  attend  his  person,  and  who  had  it  now  in  charge  to 
wait  upon  Waverley.  On  asking  his  host  if  he  knew  where 
the  Chieftain  was  gone,  the  old  man  looked  fixedly  at  him, 
with  something  mysterious  and  sad  in  the  smile  which  was  his 
only  reply.  Waverley  repeated  his  question,  to  which  his  host 
answered  in  a  proverb, — 

**  What  sent  the  messengers  to  hell. 
Was  asking  what  they  knew  full  well.''^* 

He  was  about  to  proceed,  but  Galium  Beg  said,  rathei 
pertly  as  Edward  thought,  that  "  Ta  Tighearnach   \i.  e.y  the 


WAVERLEY.  I^y 

Chief)  did  not  like  ta  Sassenagh  Duinh^-wassel  to  be  pingled 
wi'  mickle  speaking,  as  she  was  na  tat  week"  From  this  Wa« 
verley  concluded  he  should  disoblige  his  friend  by  inquiring  of 
a  stranger  the  object  of  a  journey,  which  he  himself  had  not 
communicated. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  trace  the  progress  of  our  hero's  re- 
covery. The  sixth  morning  had  arrived,  and  he  was  able  to 
walk  about  with  a  staff,  when  Fergus  returned  with  about  a 
score  of  his  men.  He  seemed  in  the  highest  spirits,  congratu- 
lated Waverley  on  his  progress  towards  recovery,  and  finding 
he  was  able  to  sit  on  horseback,  proposed  their  immediate 
return  to  Glennaquoich.  Waverley  joyfully  acceded,  for  the 
form  of  its  fair  mistress  had  lived  in  his  dreams  during  all  the 
time  of  his  confinement. 

Now  he  has  ridden  o'er  moor  and  moss, 
O'er  hill  and  many  a  glen, 

Fergus  all  the  while,  with  his  myrmidons,  striding  stoutly  by 
his  side,  or  diverging  to  get  a  shot  at  a  roe  or  a  heath-cock. 
Waverley's  bosom  beat  thick  when  they  approached  the  old 
tower  of  Ian  nan  Chaistel,  and  could  distinguish  the  fair  form 
of  its  mistress  advancing  to  meet  them. 

Fergus  began  immediately,  with  his  usual  high  spirits,  to 
exclaim,  "  Open  your  gates,  incomparable  princess,  to  the 
wounded  Moor  Abindarez,  whom  Rodrigo  de  Narvez,  constable 
of  Antiquera,  conveys  to  your  castle ;  or  open  them,  if  you  like 
it  better,  to  the  renowned  Marquis  of  Mantua,  the  sad  attend- 
ant of  his  half-slain  friend,  Baldovinos  of  the  mountain. — Ah, 
long  rest  to  thy  soul,  Cervantes  !  without  quoting  thy  remnants, 
how  should  I  frame  my  language  to  befit  romantic  ears  !  " 

Flora  now  advanced,  and  welcoming  Waverley  with  much 
kindness,  expressed  iier  regret  for  his  accident,  of  which  she  had 
already  heard  the  particulars,  and  her  surprise  that  her  brother 
should  not  have  taken  better  care  to  put  a  stranger  on  his 
guard  against  the  perils  of  the  sport  in  which  he  engaged  him 
Edward  easily  exculpated  the  Chieftain,  who,  indeed,  at  his 
own  personal  risk,  had  probably  saved  his  life. 

This  greeting  over,  Fergus  said  three  or  four  words  to  his 
sister  in  Gaelic.  The  tears  instantly  sprung  to  her  eyes,  but 
they  seemed  to  be  tears  of  devotion  and  joy,  for  she  looked  up 
to  heaven,  and  folded  her  hands  as  in  a  solemn  expression  of 
prayer  or  gratitude.  After  the  pause  of  a  minute,  she  pre« 
sented  to  Edward  some  letters  which  had  been  forwarded  from 
Tully-Veolan  during  his  absence,  and,  at  the  same  time,  d©> 


IgS  WAVER  LEY. 

livered  some  to  her  brother.  To  the  latter  she  likewise  gav« 
three  or  four  numbers  of  the  Caledonian  Mercury,  the  onlj 
newspaper  which  was  then  published  to  the  north  of  the 
Tweed. 

Both  gentlemen  retired  to  examine  their  despatches,  and 
Edward  speedily  found  that  those  which  he  had  received  con- 
tained matters  of  very  deep  interest. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

NEWS    FROM    ENGLAND. 

The  letters  w-hich  Waverley  had  hitherto  received  from  his 
relations  in  England,  were  not  such  as  required  any  particular 
notice  in  this  narrative.  His  father  usually  wrote  to  him  with 
the  pompous  affectation  of  one  who  was  too  much  oppressed  by 
public  affairs  to  find  leisure  to  attend  to  those  of  his  own  family. 
Now  and  then  he  mentioned  persons  of  rank  in  Scotland  to 
whom  he  wished  his  son  should  pay  some  attention  ;  but  Waver- 
ley, hitherto  occupied  by  the  amusements  w-hich  he  had  found 
at  Tully-Veolan  and  Glennaquoich,  dispensed  with  paying  any 
attention  to  hints  so  coldly  thrown  out,  especially  as  distance, 
shortness  of  leave  of  absence,  and  so  forth,  furnished  a  ready 
apolog}'.  But  latterly  the  burden  of  Mr.  Richard  Waveriey's 
paternal  epistles  consisted  in  certain  mysterious  hints  of  great- 
ness and  influence  which  he  was  speedily  to  attain,  and  v/hich 
would  insure  his  son's  obtaining  the  most  rapid  promotion, 
should  he  remain  in  the  military  service.  Sir  Everard's  letters 
were  of  a  different  tenor.  They  were  short ;  for  the  good 
Baronet  was  none  of  your  illimitable  correspondents,  whose 
manuscript  overflows  the  folds  of  their  large  post  paper,  and 
leaves  no  room  for  the  seal ;  but  they  were  kind  and  affection- 
ate, and  seldom  concluded  w'ithout  some  allusion  to  our  hero's 
stud,  some  question  about  the  state  of  his  purse,  and  a 
special  inquiry  after  such  of  his  recruits  as  had  preceded  him 
from  Waverley-Honour.  Aunt  Rachel  charged  him  to  remem- 
ber his  principles  of  religion,  to  take  care  of  his  health,  to 
beware  of  Scotch  mists,  which,  she  had  heard,  would  wet  an 
Englishman  through  and  through  ;  never  to  go  out  at  night 
without  his  great-coat;  and,  above  all, 'to  wear  flannel  next  to 
his  skin,  * 


WAVER  LEV. 


■59 


Mr.  Pembroke  only  wrote  to  our  hero  one  letter,  but  it  was 
flf  the  bulk  of  six  epistles  of  these  degenerate  days,  contain' 
ing,  in  the  moderate  compass  of  ten  foUo  pages,  closely  written, 
a  precis  of  a  supplementary  quarto  manuscript  of  addenda, 
deletida,  et  corrigenda,  in  reference  to  the  two  tracts  with  which 
he  had  presented  Waverley.  This  he  considered  as  a  mere 
sop  in  the  pan  to  stay  the  appetite  of  Edward's  curiosity,  until 
he  should  find  an  opportunity  of  sending  down  the  volume 
itself,  which  was  much  too  heavy  for  the  post,  and  which  he 
proposed  to  accompany  with  certain  interesting  pamphlets, 
lately  published  by  his  friend  in  Little  Britain,  with  whom  he 
had  kept  up  a  sort  of  literary  correspondence,  in  virtue  of 
which  the  library  shelves  of  Waverley-Honour  "'ere  loaded 
with  much  trash,  and  a  good  round  bill,  seldom  summed  in 
fewer  than  three  figures,  was  yearly  transmitted,  in  which  Sit 
Everard  Waverley  of  Waverley-Honour,  Bart.,  was  marked  Dr. 
to  Jonathan  Grubbet,  bookseller  and  stationer.  Little  Britain. 
Such  had  hitherto  been  the  style  of  the  letters  which  Edward 
had  received  from  England  ;  but  the  packet  delivered  to  him 
at  Glennaquoich  was  of  a  different  and  more  interesting  com* 
plexion.  It  would  be  impossible  for  the  reader,  even  were  I 
to  insert  the  letters  at  full  length,  to  comprehend  the  real 
caase  of  their  being  written,  without  a  glance  into  the  interior 
of  the  British  Cabinet  at  the  period  in  question. 

The  ministers  of  the  day  happened  (no  very  singular  event) 
to  be  divided  into  two  parties  ;  the  weakest  of  which,  making  up 
by  assiduity  of  intrigue  their  inferiority  in  real  consequence, 
had  of  late  acquired  some  new  proselytes,  and  with  them  the 
hope  of  superseding  their  rivals  in  the  favor  of  their  sovereign, 
and  overpowering  them  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Amongst 
others,  they  had  thought  it  worth  while  to  practice  upon  Rich- 
ard VVaverley.  This  honest  gentleman,  by  a  grave  myste- 
rious demeanor,  an  attention  to  the  etiquette  of  business, 
rather  more  than  to  its  essence,  a  facility  in  making  long  dull 
speeches,  consisting  of  truisms  and  common-places,  hashed  up 
with  a  technical  jargon  of  office,  which  prevented  the  inanity 
of  his  orations  from  being  discovered,  had  acquired  a  certain 
name  and  credit  in  public  life,  and  even  established  with  many 
the  character  of  a  profound  politician  ;  none  of  your  shining 
orators,  indeed,  whose  talents  evaporate  in  tropes  or  rhetoric 
and  flashes  of  wit,  but  one  possessed  of  steady  parts  for  busi- 
ness, which  would  wear  well,  as  the  ladies  say  in  choosing 
their  silks,  and  ought  in  all  reason  to  be  good  for  common  and 
every-day  use,  since  they  were  confessedly  formed  of  no  holi- 
day texture. 


i6o  IVAP'ERLEV. 

This  faith  had  become  so  general,  that  the  insurgent  part) 
in  the  cabinet  of  which  we  have  made  mention,  after  sounding 
Mr.  Richard  Waverley,  were  so  satisfied  with  his  sentiments 
and  abiHties,  as  to  propose,  that,  in  case  of  a  certain  revolu- 
tion in  the  ministry,  he  should  take  an  ostensible  place  in  the 
new  order  of  things,  not  indeed  of  the  very  first  rank,  but 
greatly  higher,  in  point  both  of  emolument  and  influence,  than 
that  which  he  now  enjoyed.  There  was  no  resisting  so  tempt- 
ing a  proposal,  notwithstanding  that  the  Great  Man,  under 
whose  patronage  he  had  enlisted,  and  by  whose  banner  he  had 
hitherto  stood  firm,  was  the  principal  object  of  the  proposed 
attack  by  the  new  allies.  Unfortunately,  this  fair  scheme  of 
ambition  was  blighted  in  the  ver)'^  bud,  by  a  premature  move- 
ment. All  the  oflScial  gentlemen  concerned  in  it,  who  hesitated 
to  take  the  part  of  a  voluntary  resignation,  were  informed  that 
the  king  had  no  farther  occasion  for  their  services  ;  and,  in 
Richard  Waverley's  case,  which  the  minister  considered  as  ag- 
gravated by  ingratitude,  dismissal  was  accompanied  by  some- 
thing like  personal  contempt  and  contumely.  The  public,  and 
even  the  party  of  whom  he  shared  the  fall,  sympathized  little 
in  the  disappointment  of  this  selfish  and  interested  statesman ; 
and  he  retired  to  the  country  under  the  comfortable  reflection, 
that  he  had  lost,  at  the  same  time,  character,  credit,  and, — • 
what  he  at  least  equally  deplored, — emolument. 

Richard  Waverley's  letter  to  his  son  upon  this  occasion  was 
a  masterpiece  of  its  kind.  Aristides  himself  could  not  have 
made  out  a  harder  case.  An  unjust  monarch,  and  an  ungrate- 
ful country,  were  the  burden  of  each  rounded  paragraph.  He 
spoke  of  long  services,  and  unrequited  sacrifices,  though  the 
former  had  been  overpaid  by  his  salary,  and  nobody  could 
guess  in  what  the  latter  consisted,  unless  it  were  in  his  desert- 
ing, not  from  conviction,  but  for  the  lucre  of  gain,  the  tory 
principles  of  his  famih'.  In  the  conclusion,  his  resentment 
was  wrought  to  such  an  excess  by  the  force  of  his  own  oratory, 
that  he  could  not  repress  some  threats  of  vengeance,  however 
vague  and  impotent,  and  finally  acquainted  his  son  with  his 
pleasure  that  he  should  testify  his  sense  of  the  ill  treatment  he 
had  sustained,  by  throwing  up  his  commission  as  soon  as  the 
letter  reached  him.  This,  he  said,  was  also  his  uncle's  desire* 
as  he  would  himself  intimate  in  due  course. 

Accordingly,  the  next  letter  which  Edward  opened,  was 
from  Sir  Everard.  His  brother's  disgrace  seemed  to  have  re- 
moved from  his  well-natured  bosom  all  recollection  of  their 
differences  ;  and,  remote  as  he  was  from  every  means  of  learn* 


WAVER  LEY.  l6t 

ftig  that  Richard's  disgrace  was  in  reality  only  the  just,  as 
well  as  natural  consequence  of  his  own  unsuccessful  intrigues, 
the  good,  but  credulous  Baronet,  at  once  set  it  down  as  a  new 
and  enormous  instance  of  the  injustice  of  the  existing  govern- 
ment. It  was  true,  he  said,  and  he  must  not  disguise  it  even 
from  Edward,  that  his  father  could  not  have  sustained  such  an 
insult  as  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  offered  to  one  of  his  house, 
unless  he  had  subjected  himself  to  it  by  accepting  of  an  em- 
ployment under  the  present  system.  Sir  Everard  had  no 
doubt  that  he  now  both  saw  and  felt  the  magnitude  of  this 
error,  and  it  should  be  his  (Sir  Everard's)  business  to  take 
care  that  the  cause  of  his  regret  should  not  extend  itself  to 
pecuniary  consequences.  It  was  enough  for  a  Waverley  to  have 
sustained  the  public  disgrace  ;  the  patrimonial  injury  could 
easily  be  obviated  by  the  head  of  their  family.  But  it  was 
both  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Richard  Waverley  and  his  own,  that 
Edward,  the  representative  of  the  family  of  Waverley-Honour, 
should  not  remain  in  a  situation  which  subjected  him  also  to 
such  treatment  as  that  with  which  his  father  had  been  stigma- 
tized. He  requested  his  nephew  therefore  to  take  the  fittest, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  speedy  opportunity,  of 
transmitting  his  resignation  to  the  War-Ofhce,  and  hinted, 
moreover,  that  little  ceremony  was  necessary  where  so  little 
had  been  used  to  his  father.  He  sent  multitudinous  greetings 
to  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine. 

A  letter  from  Aunt  Rachel  spoke  out  even  more  plainly. 
She  considered  the  disgrace  of  brother  Richard  as  the  just  re- 
ward of  his  forfeiting  his  allegiance  to  a  lawful  though  exiled 
sovereign,  and  taking  the  oaths  to  an  alien  ;  a  concession  which 
her  grandfather.  Sir  Nigel  Waverley,  refused  to  make,  either  to 
the  Round-head  Parliament  or  to  Cromwell,  when  his  life  and 
fortune  stood  in  the  utmost  extremity.  She  hoped  her  dear 
Edward  would  fo.'low  the  footsteps  of  his  ancestors,  and  as 
speedy  as  possible  ^et  rid  of  the  badge  of  servitude  to  the 
usurping  family,  and  regard  the  wrongs  sustained  by  his  father 
as  an  admonition  from  Heaven,  that  every  desertion  of  the  line 
of  loyalty  becomes  its  own  punishment.  She  also  concluded 
with  her  respects  to  Mr.  Bradwardine,  and  begged  Waverley 
would  inform  her  whether  his  daughter.  Miss  Rose,  was  old 
enough  to  wear  a  pair  of  very  handsome  earrings,  which  she 
proposed  to  send  as  a  token  of  her  affection.  The  good  lady 
also  desired  to  be  informed  whether  Mr.  Bradwardine  took  as 
much  Scotch  snuff,  and  danced  as  unweariedly,  as  he  did  when 
he  was  at  Waverley-Honour  about  thirty  years  ago. 


l6a  IVAVERLEY. 

These  letters,  as  might  have  been  expected,  highly  excited 
Waverley's  indignation.  From  the  desultory  style  of  his 
studies,  he  had  not  any  fixed  political  opinion  to  place  in  op- 
position to  the  movements  of  indignation  which  he  felt  at  his 
father's  supposed  wrongs.  Of  the  real  cause  of  his  disgrace 
Edward  was  totally  ignorant ;  nor  had  his  habits  at  all  led  hiro 
to  investigate  the  politics  of  the  period  in  which  he  lived,  of 
remarked  the  intrigues  in  which  his  father  had  been  so  aclively 
engaged.  Indeed,  any  impressions  which  he  had  accidentally 
adopted  concerning  the  parties  of  the  times,  were  (owing  to  the 
society  in  which  he  had  lived  at  Waverley-Honour),  of  a  nature 
rather  unfavorable  to  the  existing  government  and  dynasty. 
He  entered  therefore,  without  hesitation,  into  the  resentful 
feeling  of  the  relations  who  had  the  best  title  to  dictate  his 
conduct ;  and  not  perhaps  the  less  willingly,  when  he  remem- 
pered  the  tedium  of  his  quarters,  and  the  inferior  figure  which 
he  had  made  among  the  officers  of  his  regiment.  If  he  could 
have  had  any  doubt  upon  the  subject,  it  would  have  been  de- 
cided by  the  following  letter  from  his  commanding  officer, 
which,  as  it  is  very  short,  shall  be  inserted  verbatim  • 

"Sir, 
**  Having  carried  scmewhat  beyond  the  line  of  my  duty  an 
indulgence  which  even  the  lights  of  nature,  and  much  more 
those  of  Christianity,  direct  towards  errors  which  may  arise 
from  youth  and  inexperience,  and  that  altogether  without  effect, 
I  am  reluctantly  compelled,  at  the  present  crisis,  to  use  the 
only  remaining  remedy  which  is  in  my  power.  You  are,  there- 
fore, hereby  commanded  to  repair  to ,  the  head-quarters 

of  the  regiment,  within  three  days  after  the  date  of  this  letter. 
If  you  shall  fail  to  do  so,  I  must  report  you  to  the  War-Office 
as  absent  without  leave,  and  also  take  other  steps,  whith  will 
be  disagreeable  to  you,  as  well  as  to, 

*'  Sir, 
;  "  Your  obedient  Serv-ant, 

"J.  Gardiner,  Lieut.-Col. 
"  Commanding  the Regt.  Dragoons." 

Edward's  blood  boiled  within  him  as  he  read  this  letter. 
He  had  been  accustomed  from  his  very  infancy  to  possess,  in 
a  great  measure,  the  disposal  of  his  own  time,  and  thus  ac- 
quired habits  which  rendered  the  rules  of  military  discipline  aa 
unpleasing  to  him  in  this  as  they  were  in  some  other  respects. 
An  idea  that  in  his  own  case  they  would  not  be  enforced  in  t 


IVAVERLEY.  163 

very  rigid  manner,  had  also  obtained  full  possession  of  his 
mind,  and  had  hitherto  been  sanctioned  by  the  indulgent  con- 
duct of  his  lieutenant-colonel.  Neither  had  anything  occurred, 
to  his  knowledge,  that  should  have  induced  his  commanding 
officer,  without  any  other  warning  than  the  hints  we  noticed  at 
the  end  of  the  fourteenth  chapter,  so  suddenly  to  assume  a 
harsh,  and,  as  Edward  deemed  it,  so  insolent  a  tone  of  dicta- 
torial authority.  Connecting  it  with  the  letters  he  had  just  re- 
ceived from  his  family,  he  could  not  but  suppose,  that  it  was 
designed  to  make  him  feel,  in  his  present  situation,  the  same 
pressure  of  authority  which  had  been  exercised  in  his  father's 
case,  and  that  the  whole  was  a  concerted  scheme  to  depress 
and  degrade  every  member  of  the  Waverley  family. 

Without  a  pause,  therefore,  Edward  wrote  a  few  cold  lines, 
thanking  his  lieutenant-colonel  for  past  civilities,  and  expressing 
regret  that  he  should  have  chosen  to  efface  the  remembrance  of 
them,  by  assuming  a  different  tone  towards  him.  The  strain 
of  his  letter,  as  well  as  what  he  (Edward)  conceived  to  be  his 
duty,  in  the  present  crisis,  called  upon  him  to  lay  down  his 
commission  ;  and  he  therefore  enclosed  the  formal  resignation 
of  a  situation  which  subjected  him  to  so  unpleasant  a  corre- 
spondence, and  requested  Colonel  Gardiner  would  have  the 
goodness  to  forward  it  to  the  proper  authorities. 

Having  finished  this  magnanimous  epistle,  he  felt  somewhat 
uncertain  concerning  the  terms  in  which  his  resignation  ought 
to  be  expressed,  upon  which  subject  he  resolved  to  consult 
Fergus  Mac-Ivor.  It  may  be  observed,  in  passing,  that  the 
bold  and  prompt  habits  of  thinking,  acting,  and  speaking, 
which  distinguished  this  young  Chieftain,  had  given  him  a 
considerable  ascendancy  over  the  mind  of  Waverley.  En- 
dowed with  at  least  equal  powers  of  understanding,  and  witU 
much  finer  genius,  Edward  yet  stooped  to  the;  bold  and  deci- 
sive activity  of  an  intellect  which  was  sharpened  by  the  habit 
of  acting  on  a  preconceived  and  regular  system,  as  well  as  by 
extensive  knowledge  of  the  world. 

When  Edward  found  his  friend,  the  latter  had  still  in  his 
hand  the  newspaper  which  he  had  perused,  and  advanced  to 
meet  him  wifh  the  embarrassment  of  one  who  has  unpleasing 
news  to  communicate.  "  Do  your  letters.  Captain  Waverley, 
confirm  the  unpleasing  information  which  I  find  in  this  paper?  " 

He  put  the  paper  into  his  hand,  where  his  father's  disgrace 
was  registered  in  the  most  bitter  terms,  transferred  probably 
from  some  London  journal.  At  the  end  of  the  paragraph  waj 
this  remarkable  inuendo  : 


l64  WAVE  RLE  Y, 

"We  understand  that  'this  same  Ru^iard who  hati?  done  all 
this,'  is  not  the  only  example  of  the  iVavering Honour  oi  W-v-riy 
H-n-r.     See  the  Gazette  of  this  day." 

With  hurried  and  feverish  apprehension  our  hero  turned  to 
the  place  referred  to,  and  found   therein  recorded,  "  Edward 

Waverley,  captain  in regiment  dragoons,  superseded   fof 

absence  without  leave  ;  "  and  in  the  list  of  military  promotions 
referring  to  the  same  regiment,  he  discovered  this  farther  ar- 
ticle, "  Lieut.  Julius  Butler,  to  be  captain,  vice  Edward  Waver* 
ley,  superseded." 

Our  hero's  bosom  glowed  with  the  resentment  which  unde- 
served and  apparently  premeditated  insult  was  calculated  to 
excite  in  the  bosom  of  one  who  had  aspired  after  honor,  and 
was  thus  wantonly  held  up  to  public  scorn  and  disgrace.  Upon 
comparing  the  date  of  his  colonel's  letter  with  that  of  the  article 
in  the  Gazette,  he  perceived  that  his  threat  of  making  a  report 
upon  his  absence  had  been  literally  fulfilled,  and  without  inquiry, 
as  it  seemed,  whether  Edward  had  either  received  his  summons, 
or  was  disposed  to  comply  with  it.  The  whole,  therefore,  ap- 
peared a  formed  plan  to  degrade  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  public ; 
and  the  idea  of  its  having  succeeded  filled  him  with  such  bitter 
emotions,  that,  after  various  attempts  to  conceal  them,  he  at 
length  threw  himself  into  Mac-Ivor's  arms,  and  gave  vent  to 
tears  of  shame  and  indignation. 

It  was  none  of  this  Chieftain's  faults  to  be  indifferent  to  the 
wrongs  of  his  friends  ;  and  for  Edward,  independent  of  certain 
plans  with  which  he  was  connected,  he  felt  a  deep  and  sincere 
interest.  The  proceeding  appeared  as  extraordinary  to  him  as 
it  had  done  to  Edward.  He  indeed  knew  of  more  motives  than 
Waverley  was  privy  to  for  the  peremptory  order  that  he  should 
join  his  regiment.  But  that,  without  farther  inquiry  into  the 
circumstances  of  a  necessary  delay,  the  commanding  officer,  in 
contradiction  to  his  known  and  established  character,  should 
have  proceeded  in  so  harsh  and  unusual  a  manner,  was  a  mys' 
ter}'  which  he  could  not  penetrate.  He  soothed  our  hero, 
however,  to  the  best  of  his  power,  and  began  to  turn  his  thoughts 
on  revenge  for  his  insulted  honor. 

Edward  eagerly  grasped  at  the  idea.  "  Will  you  carry  a 
message  for  me  to  Colonel  Gardiner,  my  dear  Fergus,  and 
oblige  me  forever  ? ' 

Fergus  paused,  "  It  is  an  act  of  friendship  which  you  should 
command,  could  it  be  useful,  or  lead  to  the  righting  your  honorj 
but  in  the  present  case,  I  doubt  if  your  commanding  officer 
would  give  you  the  meeting,  on  account  of  his  having  takeo 


WAVER  LEY.  l6g 

measures,  which,  however  harsh  and  exasperating,  were  still 
within  strict  bounds  of  his  duty.  Besides,  Gardiner  is  a  pre« 
cise  Huguenot,  and  has  adopted  certain  ideas  about  the  sinful- 
ness of  such  rencontres,  from  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
make  liim  depart,  especially  as  his  courage  is  beyond  all  sus- 
picion. And  besides,  I — I,  to  say  the  truth — I  dare  not  at  this 
moment,  for  some  very  weighty  reasons,  go  near  any  of  the 
military  quarters  or  garrisons  belonging  to  this  government." 

"And  am  I,"  said  Waverley,  "to  sit  down  quiet  and  con  ■ 
tented  under  the  injury  I  have  received  ?  " 

"  That  will  I  never  advise  my  friend,"  replied  Mac-Ivor. 
*'  But  I  would  have  vengeance  to  fall  on  the  head,  not  on  the 
hand  ;  on  the  tyrannical  and  oppressive  government  which 
designed  and  directed  these  premeditated  and  reiterated  insults, 
not  on  the  tools  of  office  which  they  employed  in  the  e-xecution 
of  the  injuries  they  aimed  at  you." 

"  On  the  government !  "  said  Waverley. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  impetuous  Highlander,  "on  the  usurp- 
ing house  of  Hanover,  whom  your  grandfather  would  no  more 
have  served  than  he  would  have  taken  wages  of  red-hot  gold 
from  the  great  fiend  of  hell !  " 

"  But  since  the  time  of  my  grandfather  two  generations  of 
this  dynasty  have  possessed  the  throne,"  said  Edward,  coollyv 

"True,"  replied  the  Chieftain;  "and  because  we  hav* 
passively  given  them  so  long  the  means  of  showing  their  native 
character,  because  both  you  and  I  myself  have  lived  in  quiet 
submission,  have  even  truckled  to  the  times  so  far  as  t(?  accept 
commissions  under  them.,  and  thus  have  given  them  an  opportu- 
nity of  disgracing  us  publicly  by  resuming  them,  are  we  not  on  tha^ 
account  to  resent  injuries  which  our  fathers  only  apprehended, 
but  which  we  have  actually  sustained  ?  Or  is  the  cause  of  tha 
unfortunate  Stuart  family  become  less  just,  because  their  title 
has  devolved  upon  an  heir  who  is  innocent  of  the  charges  of 
misgovern ment  brought  against  his  father  ? — Do  you  remenabe* 
the  lines  of  your  favorite  poet  ? — • 

Had  Richard  iinconstrain'd  resign'd  the  throne, 
A  king  can  give  no  more  than  is  his  own ; 
The  title  stood  entail'd  had  Richard  had  a  son. 

You  see,  my  dear  Waverley,  I  can  quote  poetry  as  well  as  Flora 
and  you.  But  come,  clear  your  moody  brow,  and  trust  to  me 
to  show  you  an  honorable  road  to  a  speedy  and  glorious  revenge. 
Let  us  seek  Flora,  who,  perhaps,  has  more  news  to  tell  us  of 
what  has  occurred  during  our  absence.     She  will  rejoice  to  heal 


iM  WAVEKLBT. 

that  you  are  relieved  of  your  servitude.    But  first  add  a  pose 

script  to  your  letter,  marking  the  time  when  you  received  this 
calvinistical  Colonel's  first  summons,  and  express  your  regret 
that  the  hastiness  of  his  proceedings  prevented  your  anticipat- 
ing them  by  sending  your  resignation.  Then  let  him  blush  foi 
his  injustice." 

The  letter  was  sealed  accordingly,  covering  a  formal  resig 
nation  of  the  commission,  and  Mac-Ivor  despatched  it  with  some 
letters  of  his  own  by  a  special  messenger,  with  charge  to  put 
tliem  into  the  nearest  post-ofBce  in  the  Lowlands. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

AN    ECLAIRCISSEMENT. 

The  hint  which  the  Chieftain  had  thrown  out  respecting 
Flora  was  not  unpremeditated.  He  had  observed  with  great 
satisfaction  the  growing  attachment  of  Waverley  to  his  sister, 
nor  did  he  see  any  bar  to  their  union,  excepting  the  situation 
which  Waverley's  father  held  in  the  ministry,  and  Edward's  own 
commission  in  the  army  of  George  11.  These  obstacles  were 
now  removed,  and  in  a  manner  which  apparently  paved  the  way 
for  the  son's  becoming  reconciled  to  another  allegiance.  In 
every  other  respect  the  match  would  be  most  eligible.  The 
safety,  happiness,  and  honorable  provision  of  his  sister,  whom 
he  dearly  loved,  appeared  to  be  insured  by  the  proposed  union  ; 
and  his  heart  swelled  when  he  considered  how  his  own  interest 
would  be  exalted  in  the  eyes  of  the  ex-monarch  to  whom  he  had 
dedicated  his  service,  by  an  alliance  with  one  of  those  ancient, 
powerful,  and  wealthy  English  families  of  the  steady  cavalier 
faith,  to  awaken  whose  decayed  attachment  to  the  Stuart  family 
was  now  a  matter  of  such  vital  importance  to  the  Stuart  cause. 
Nor  corld  Fergus  perceive  any  obstacle  to  such  a  scheme. 
Waverley's  attachment  was  evident ;  and  as  his  person  was 
handsome,  and  his  taste  apparently  coincided  with  her  own,  he 
anticipated  no  opposition  on  the  part  of  Flora.  Indeed,  be- 
t\veen  his  ideas  of  patriarchal  power,  and  those  which  he  had 
acquired  in  France  respecting  the  disposal  of  females  in  mar* 
riage,  any  opposition  from  his  sister,  dear  as  she  was  to  him, 
would  have  been  the  last  obstacle  on  which  he  woMld  have  caJ' 
culated,  even  had  the  union  been  less  eligible. 


WAVBRLEY  t<^ 

Influenced  by  these  feelings,  the  Chief  now  led  Waverley 
jn  quest  of  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  not  without  the  hope  that  the  pres- 
ent agitation  of  his  guest's  spirits  might  give  him  courage  to 
cut  short  what  Fergus  termed  the  romance  of  the  courtship. 
They  found  Flora,  witli  her  faithful  attendants,  Una  and  Cath- 
Jeen,  busied  in  preparing  what  appeared  to  Waverley  to  be  white 
bridal  favors.  Disguising  as  well  as  he  could  the  agitation  of 
his  mind,  Waverley  asked  for  what  joyful  occasions  Miss  Mac- 
Ivor  made  such  ample  preparation. 

"  It  is  for  Fergus's  bridal,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  Edward  ;  "  he  has  kept  his  secret  well.  I 
hope  he  will  allow  me  to  be  his  bride's-man." 

"  That  is  a  man's  office,  but  not  yours,  as  Beatrice  says," 
retorted  Flora. 

"  And  who  is  the  fair  lady,  may  I  be  permitted  to  ask,  Miss 
Mac-Ivor  ? " 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  long  since,  that  Fergus  wooed  no  bride 
but  Honor  ?  "  answered  Flora. 

"  And  am  I  then  incapable  of  being  his  assistant  and  coun- 
sellor in  the  pursuit  of  Honor  ? "  said  our  hero,  coloring  deeply. 
**  Do  I  rank  so  low  in  your  opinion  ?  " 

**  Far  from  it.  Captain  Waverley.  I  would  to  God  you  were 
of  our  determination  !  and  made  use  of  the  expression  which 
displeased  you,  solely 

Because  you  are  not  of  our  quality. 
But  stand  against  us  as  an  enemy." 

"That  time  is  passed,  sister,"  said  Fergus  ;  "and  you  may 
wish  Edward  Waverley  (no  longer  captain)  joy  of  being  freed 
from  the  slavery  to  an  usurper,  implied  in  that  sable  and  ill- 
omened  emblem." 

"  Yes,"  said  Waverley,  undoing  the  cockade  from  his  hat, 
"  it  has  pleased  the  king  who  bestowed  this  badge  upon  me  to 
resume  it  in  a  manner  which  leaves  me  little  reason  to  regret 
his  service." 

"  Thank  God  for  that  1  "  cried  the  enthusiast  j  "  and  O  that 
they  may  be  blind  enough  to  treat  every  man  of  honor  who 
serves  them  with  the  same  indignity,  that  I  may  have  less  to 
tigh  for  when  the  struggle  approaches  !  " 

*'  And  now,  sister,"  said  the  Chieftain,  "replace  his  cockade 
vith  one  of  a  more  lively  color.  I  think  it  was  the  fashion  of 
the  ladies  of  yore  to  arm  and  send  forth  their  knights  to  high 
*chievement." 

**  Not,"  replied  the  lady,  "  till  <^he  knight  adventurer  hacj 


i68  tVAVERLEV. 

«vell  weighed  the  justice  and  the  danger  of  the  cause,  Fergus. 
Mr.  Waverley  is  just  now  too  much  agitated  by  feelings  of 
recent  emotion,  for  me  to  press  upon  him  a  resolution  of  cotk 
sequence." 

Waverley  felt  half-alarmed  at  the  thoughts  of  adopting  tho 
badge  of  what  was  by  the  majority  of  the  kingdom  esteemed 
rebellion,  yet  he  could  not  disguise  his  chagrin  at  the  coldness 
with  which  Flora  parried  her  brother's  hint.  "  Miss  Mac-Ivor, 
I  perceive,  thinks  the  knight  unworthy  of  her  encouragement 
and  favor,"  said  he,  somewhat  bitterly. 

*'  Not  so,  Mr.  Waverley,"  she  replied,  with  great  sweetness. 
"  Why  should  I  refuse  my  brother's  valued  friend  a  boon  which 
I  am  distributing  to  his  whole  clan  ?  Most  willingly  would  I 
enlist  every  man  of  honor  in  the  cause  to  which  my  brother  has 
devoted  himself.  But  Fergus  has  taken  his  measures  with  his 
eyes  open.  His  life  has  been  devoted  to  this  cause  from  his 
cradle ;  with  him  its  call  is  sacred,  were  it  even  a  summons 
to  the  tomb.  But  how  can  I  wish  you,  Mr.  Waverley,  so 
new  to  the  world,  so  far  from  every  friend  who  might  advise  and 
ought  to  influence  you, — in  a  moment  too  of  sudden  pique  and 
indignation, — how  can  I  wish  you  to  plunge  yourself  at  once 
into  so  desperate  an  enterprise  ?  " 

Fergus,  who  did  not  understand  these  delicacies,  strode 
through  the  apartment  biting  his  lip,  and  then,  with  a  con- 
strained smile,  said,  "  Well,  sister,  I  leave  you  to  act  your  new 
character  of  mediator  between  the  Elector  of  Hanover  and  the 
subjects  of  your  lawful  sovereign  and  benefactor,"  and  left  the 
room. 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  which  was  at  length  broken  by 
Miss  Mac-Ivor.  *'  My  brother  is  unjust,"  she  said,  "  because 
he  can  bear  no  interruption  that  seems  to  thwart  his  loyaj 
zeal." 

*'  And  do  you  not  share  his  ardor? "  asked  Waverley. 

*'  Do  I  not  ?  "  answered  Flora — "  God  knows  mine  exceeds 
his,  if  that  be  possible.  But  I  am  not,  like  him,  rapt  by  the 
bustle  of  military  preparation,  and  the  infinite  detail  necessary 
to  the  present  undertaking,  beyond  consideration  of  the  grand 
principles  of  justice  and  truth,  on  which  our  enterprise  is 
grounded  ;  and  these,  I  am  certain,  can  only  be  furthered  by 
measures  in  themselves  true  and  just.  To  operate  upon  your 
present  feelings,  my  dear  Mr.  Waverley,  to  induce  you  to  an 
irretrievable  step,  of  which  you  have  not  considered  either  the 
justice  or  the  danger,  is,  in  my  poor  judgment,  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other." 


WAVERLEY.  169 

"  Incomparable  Flora  !  "  said  Edward,  taking  her  hand ; 
'*  how  much  do  I  need  such  a  monitor  !  " 

"  A  better  one  by  far,"  said  Flora,  gently  withdrawing  her 
hand,  "  Mr.  Waverley  will  always  find  in  his  own  bosom,  when 
he  will  give  its  small  still  voice  leisure  to  be  heard." 

"  No,  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  I  dare  not  hope  it ;  a  thousand  cir- 
cumstances of  fatal  self-indulgence  have  made  me  the  creature 
rather  of  imagination  than  reason.  Durst  I  but  hope — could 
I  but  think — that  vou  would  deign  to  be  tome  that. affectionate, 
that  condescending  friend  who  would  strengthen  me  to  redeem 
my  errors,  my  future  life  " 

"  Hush,  my  dear  sir !  now  you  carry  your  joy  at  escaping 
the  hands  of  a  Jacobite  recruiting  officer  to  an  unparalleled  ex- 
cess of  gratitude." 

"  Nay,  dear  Flora,  trifle  with  me  no  longer  ;  you  cannot  * 
mistake  the  meaning  of  those  feelings  which  I  have  almost 
involuntarily  expressed ;  and,  since  I  have  broken  the  barrier 
of  silence,  let  me  profit  by  my  audacity — Or  may  I,  with  your 
permission,  mention  to  your  brother  " 

"  Not  for  the  world,  Mr.  Waverley  !  " 

"What  am  I  to  understand  1  "  said  Edward.  "  Is  there  any 
fatal  bar — has  any  prepossession " 

"  None,  sir,"  answered  Flora.  "  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  say, 
that  I  never  yet  saw  the  person  on  whom  I  thought  with  refer- 
ence to  the  present  subject." 

"  Tlie  shortness  of  our  acquaintance,  perhaps — If  Miss  Mac- 
Ivor  will  deign  to  give  me  time " 

"  I  Imve  not  even  that  excuse.  Captain  Waverley's  character 
is  so  open — is,  in  short,  of  that  nature,  that  it  cannot  be  mis- 
construed, either  in  its  strength  or  its  weakness." 

"  And  for  that  weakness  you  despise  me  .-' "  said  Edward. 

"  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Waverley — and  remember  it  is  but  within 
this  half  hour  that  there  existed  between  us  a  barrier  of  a 
nature  to  me  insurmountable,  since  I  never  could  think  of  an 
officer  in  the  service  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover  in  any  other 
light  than  as  a  casual  acquaintance.  Permit  me  then  to  arrange 
my  ideas  upon  so  unexpected  a  topic,  and  in  less  than  an  hour 
I  will  be  ready  to  give  you  such  reasons  for  the  resolution  I 
shall  express,  as  may  be  satisfactory  at  least,  if  not  pleasing  to 
you."  So  saying.  Flora  withdrew,  leaving  Waverley  to  meditate 
upon  the  manner  in  wiiich  she  had  received  his  addresses. 

Ere  he  could  make  up  his  mind  whether  to  believe  his 
suit  had  been  acceptable  or  no,  Fergus  re-entered  the  apart- 
ment,    "  What,  a  la  mort,  Waverley  1 "   he  cried.      "  Come 


170 


WAVERLEY. 


down  with  me  to  the  court,  and  you  shall  see  a  sight  worth  al\ 
the  tirades  of  your  romances.  An  hundred  firelocks,  and  as 
many  broadswords,  just  arrived  from  good  friends  ;  and  two  or 
three  liundred  stout  fellows  almost  fighting  which  shall  first 
possess  them. — But  let  me  look  at  you  closer — Why,  a  true 
Highlander  would  say  you  have  been  blighted  by  an  evil  eye. 
— Or  can  it  be  tiiis  silly  girl  that  has  thus  blanked  your  spirit  ? 
— Never  mind  her,  dear  Edward  ;  the  wisest  of  her  sex  are 
fools  in  what  regards  the  business  of  life." 

"  Indeed,  my  good  friend,"  answered  Waverley,  "  all  that 
I  can  charge  against  your  sister  is,  that  she  is  too  sensible,  too 
reasonable." 

"  If  that  be  all,  I  insure  you  for  a  louis  d'or  against  the 
mood  lasting  four-and-twenty  hours.  No  woman  was  ever 
steadily  sensible  for  that  period  ;  and  I  will  engage,  if  that 
will  please  you,  Flora  shall  be  as  unreasonable  to-morrow  as 
any  of  her  sex.  You  must  learn,  my  dear  Edward,  to  consider 
women  en  fnoiisquetaire.''  So  saying,  he  seized  Waverley's  arm, 
and  dragged  him  off  to  review  his  military  preparations. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

UPON  THE  SAME  SUBJECT. 

Fergus  Mac-Ivor  had  too  much  tact  and  delicacy  to  re 
new  the  subject  which  he  had  interrupted.  His  head  was,  or 
appeared  to  be,  so  full  of  guns,  broadswords,  bonnets,  can- 
teens, and  tartan  hose,  that  Waverley  could  not  for  sometime 
draw  his  attention  to  any  other  topic. 

"  Are  you  to  take  the  field  so  soon,  Fergus,  "he  asked, "that 
you  are  making  all  these  martial  preparations  "i  " 

"  When  we  have  settled  that  you  go  with  me,  you  shal; 
know  all ;  but  otherwise  the  knowledge  might  rather  be  preju- 
dicial to  you." 

"  But  are  you  serious  in  your  purpose,  with  such  inferior 
forces,  to  rise  against  an  established  government  ?  It  is  mere 
phrenzy." 

"  Laissez  /aire  a  Don  Antoitie — 1  shall  take  good  care  of 
myself.     We  shall  at  least  use  the  compliment  of  Conan,  who 


WAVERLEY. 


I7» 


never  got  a  stroke  but  he  gave  one.  I  would  not,  however," 
continued  the  Chieftain,  "  have  you  think  me  mad  enough  to 
stir  till  a  favorable  opportunity  :  I  will  not  slip  my  dog  be- 
fore the  game's  a  toot.  But,  once  more,  will  you  join  with  us, 
and  you  shall  know  all  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ? "  said  Waverley  ;  "  I,  who  have  so  lately 
held  that  commission  which  is  now  posting  back  to  those  that 
gave  it  ?  My  accepting  it  implied  a  promise  of  fidelity,  and  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  legality  of  the  government." 

"  A  rash  promise,"  answered  Fergus,  "  is  not  a  steel  hand- 
cuff ;  it  may  be  shaken  off,  especially  when  it  was  given  under 
deception,  and  has  been  repaid  by  insult.  But  if  you  cannot 
immediately  make  up  your  mind  to  a  glorious  revenge,  go  to 
England,  and  ere  you  cross  the  Tweed,  you  will  hear  tidings 
that  will  make  the  world  ring  ;  and  if  Sir  Everard  be  the  gal- 
lant old  cavalier  I  have  heard  him  described  by  some  of  out 
honest  gentlemen  of  the  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
fifteen,  he  will  find  you  a  better  horse-troop  and  a  better  cause 
than  you  have  lost." 

"  But  your  sister,  Fergus  ?  " 

"Out,  hyperbolical  fiend!"  replied  the  Chief,  laughing; 
"  how  vexest  thou  this  man  ! — Speak'st  thou  of  nothing  but  of 
ladies  ?  " 

"  Nay,  be  serious,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Waverley  ;  "  I  fee! 
that  the  happiness  of  my  future  life  must  depend  upon  the 
answer  which  Miss  Mac-Ivor  shall  make  to  what  I  ventured  to 
tell  her  this  morning." 

"And  is  this  your  very  sober  earnest,"  said  Fergus,  more 
gravely,  "  or  are  we  in  the  land  of  romance  and  fiction  ? " 

"  My  earnest,  undoubtedly.  How  could  you  suppose  me 
jesting  on  such  a  subject  ?  " 

"  Then,  in  very  sober  earnest,"  answered  his  friend,  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  hear  it  :  and  so  highly  do  1  think  of  Flora,  that 
you  are  the  only  man  in  England  for  whom  I  would  say  so 
much. — But  before  you  shake  my  hand  so  warmly,  there  is 
more  to  be  considered. — »Your  owh  family — will  they  approve 
your  connecting  yourself  with  the  sister  of  a  high-born  High- 
land beggar  ?  " 

"  My  uncle's  situation,"  said  Waverley  "  his  general  opin 
ions,  and  his  uniform  indulgence,  entitle  me  to  say,  that  birth 
and  personal  qualities  are  all  he  would  look  to  in  such  a  con- 
nection. And  where  can  I  find  both  united  in  such  excellence 
as  in  your  sister  ?  " 

"O  nowhere.' — cela  va  jans  ///W',"  replied  Fergus   with  a 


17a 


WAYERLEV. 


smile.  "  But  your  father  will  expect  a  father's  prerogative  il 
being  consulted." 

"  Surely ;  but  his  late  breach  with  the  ruling  powers  re« 
moves  all  apprehension  of  objection  on  his  part,  especially  as  I 
am  convinced  that  my  uncle  will  be  warm  in  my  cause." 

"  Religion  perhaps,"  said  Fergus,  "  may  make  obstacles, 
though  we  are  not  bigoted  Catholics." 

*'  My  grandmother  was  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  her 
religion  was  never  objected  to  by  my  family. — Do  not  think  of 
my  friends,  dear  Fergus ;  let  me  rather  have  your  influence 
where  it  may  be  more  necessary  to  remove  obstacles — I  mean 
with  your  lovely  sister." 

"  My  lovely  sistex,"  replied  Fergus,  "  like  her  loving  broth- 
er, is  very  apt  to  have  a  pretty  decisive  will  of  her  own,  by 
which,  in  this  case,  yoa  must  be  ruled ;  but  you  shall  not  want 
my  interest,  nor  my  counsel.  And,  in  the  first  place,  I  will 
give  you  one  hint — Loyalty  is  her  ruling  passion  ;  and  since 
she  could  spell  an  English  book,  she  has  been  in  love  with  the 
memory  of  the  gallant  Captain  Wogan,  who  renounced  the 
service  of  the  usurper  Cromwell  to  join  the  standard  of  Charles 
II.,  marched  a  handful  of  cavalry  from  London  to  the  High- 
lands to  join  Middleton,  then  in  arms  for  the  king,  and  at 
length  died  gloriously  in  the  royal  cause.  Ask  her  to  show 
you  some  verses  she  made  on  his  history  and  fate ;  they  have 
been  much  admired,  I  assure  you.  The  next  point  is — I  think 
I  saw  Flora  go  up  towards  the  water-fall  a  short  time  since— 
follow,  man,  follow  ! — don't  allow  the  garrison  time  to  strengthen 
its  purposes  of  resistance — Alcrte  a  la  viuraille  /  Seek  Flora 
cut,  and  learn  her  decision  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  Cupid  go 
with  you  while  I  go  to  look  over  belts  and  cartouch-boxes." 

Waverley  ascended  the  glen  with  an  anxious  and  throbbing 
heart.  Love,  with  all  its  romantic  train  of  hopes,  fears,  and 
wishes,  was  mingled  with  other  feelings  of  a  nature  less  easily 
defined.  He  could  not  but  remember  how  much  this  morning 
had  changed  his  fate,  and  into  what  a  complication  of  perplexity 
it  was  likely  to  plunge  him.  Sunrise  had  seen  him  possessed 
of  an  esteemed  rank  in  the  honorable  profession  of  arms, 
his  father  to  all  appearance  rapidly  rising  in  the  favor  of  his 
sovereign  ; — all  this  had  passed  away  like  a  dream — he  himself 
was  dishonored,  his  father  disgraced,  and  he  had  become 
involuntarily  the  confidant  at  least,  if  not  the  accomplice,  of 
plans,  dark,  deep,  and  dangerous,  which  must  either  infer  the 
subversion  of  the  government  he  had  so  lately  served,  or  tht 
destruction  of  all  who  had  participated  in  them.     Should  Flort 


WAVERLEY. 


'75 


even  listen  to  his  suit  favorably,  what  prospect  was  there  of 
its  being  brought  to  a  happy  termination  amid  the  tumult  of  an 
impending  insurrection  ?  Or  how  could  he  make  the  selfish 
request  that  she  should  leave  Fergus,  to  whom  she  was  so 
much  attached,  and,  retiring  with  him  to  England,  wait  as  a 
distant  spectator,  the  success  of  her  brother's  undertaking,  or 
the  ruin  of  all  his  hopes  and  fortunes  ? — Or,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  engage  himself,  with  no  other  aid  than  his  single  arm,  in  the 
dangerous  and  precipitate  counsels  of  the  Chieftain, — to  be 
whirled  along  by  him,  the  partaker  of  all  his  desperate  and 
impetuous  motions,  renouncing  almost  the  power  of  judging,  or 
deciding  upon  the  rectitude  or  prudence  of  his  actions, — this 
was  no  pleasing  prospect  for  the  secret  pride  of  Waverley  to 
stoop  to.  And  yet  what  other  conclusion  remained,  saving  the 
rejection  of  his  addresses  by  Flora,  an  alternative  not  to  be 
thought  of,  in  the  present  high-wrought  state  of  his  feelings, 
with  anything  short  of  mental  agony.  Pondering  the  doubtful 
and  dangerous  prospect  before  him,  he  at  length  arrived  near 
the  cascade,  where,  as  Fergus  had  augured,  he  found  Flora 
seated. 

She  was  quite  alone,  and  as  soon  as  she  observed  his  ap- 
proach, she  rose  and  came  to  meet  him.  Edward  attempted  to 
say  something  within  the  verge  of  ordinary  compliment  and 
conversation,  but  found  himself  unequal  to  the  task.  Flora 
seemed  at  first  equally  embarrassed,  but  recovered  herself  more 
speedily,  and  (an  unfavorable  augury  for  Waverley's  suit)  was 
the  first  to  enter  upon  the  subject  of  their  last  interview.  "  It 
is  too  important,  in  every  point  of  view,  Mr.  Waverley,  to  per- 
mit me  to  leave  you  in  doubt  on  my  sentiments." 

"  Do  not  speak  them  speedily,"  said  Waverley,  much  agita- 
ted, "  unless  they  are  such  as  I  fear,  from  your  manner,  I  must 
not  dare  to  anticipate.  Let  time — let  my  future  conduct — let 
your  brother's  influence  " 

*  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Waverley,"  said  Flora,  her  complexion  a 
little  heightened,  but  her  voice  firm  and  composed.  "  I  should 
incui  my  own  heavy  censure,  did  I  delay  expressing  my  sincere 
conviction  that  I  can  never  regard  you  otherwise  than  as  a 
valued  friend.  I  should  do  you  the  higliest  injustice  did  I  con- 
ceal my  sentiments  for  a  moment — I  see  1  distress  you,  and  I 
grieve  for  it,  but  better  now  than  later  ;  and  O,  better  a  thou- 
sand times,  Mr.  Waverley,  that  you  should  feel  a  present  mo- 
mentary disappointment,  than  the  long  and  heart-sickening 
griefs  which  attend  a  rash  and  ill-assorted  marriage  !  " 

"  Good  God  ! "  exclaimed  Waverley,  "  why  should  you  ant^ 


»74 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


cipate  such  consequences  from  a  union  where  birth  is  equa\ 
where  fortune  is  favorable,  where,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so, 
the  tastes  are  similar,  where  you  allege  no  preference  for  an- 
other, where  you  even  express  a  favorable  opinion  of  him  whom 
you  reject  ? " 

"  ]\Ir.  Waverley,  I  have  that  favorable  opinion,"  answered 
Flora  ;  "  and  so  strongly,  that  though  I  would  rather  have  been 
silent  on  the  grounds  of  my  resolution,  you  shall  command  them, 
if  you  exact  such  a  mark  of  my  esteem  and  confidence." 

She  sat  down  upon  a  fragment  of  rock,  and  Waverley  pla- 
cing himself  near  her,  anxiously  pressed  for  the  explanation  she 
offered. 

"  I  dare  hardly,"  she  said,  "  tell  you  the  situation  of  my 
feelings,  they  are  so  different  from  those  usually  ascribed  to 
young  women  at  my  period  of  life ;  and  I  dare  hardly  touch 
upon  what  I  conjecture  to  be  the  nature  of  yours,  lest  I  should 
give  offence  where  I  would  willingly  administer  consolation. 
For  myself,  from  my  infancy  till  this  day,  I  have  had  but  one 
wish, — the  restoration  of  my  royal  benefactors  to  their  rightful 
throne.  It  is  impossible  to  express  to  you  the  devotion  of  my 
feelings  to  this  single  subject,  and  I  will  frankly  confess  that 
it  has  so  occupied  my  mind  as  to  exclude  every  thought  respect- 
ing what  is  called  my  own  settlement  in  life.  Let  me  but  live 
to  see  the  day  of  that  happy  restoration,  and  a  Highland 
cottage,  a  French  convent,  or  an  English  palace,  will  be  alike 
indifferent  to  me." 

"  But,  dearest  Flora,  how  is  your  enthusiastic  zeal  for  the 
exiled  family  inconsistent  with  my  happiness  ?  " 

"  Because  you  seek,  or  ought  to  seek,  in  the  object  of  your 
attachment,  a  heart  whose  principal  delight  should  be  in  aug- 
menting your  domestic  felicity,  and  returning  your  affection, 
even  to  the  height  of  romance.  To  a  man  of  less  keen  sensi- 
bility, and  less  enthusiastic  tenderness  of  disposition.  Flora 
Mac-Ivor  might  give  content,  if  not  happiness  ;  for,  were  the 
irrevocable  words  spoken,  never  would  she  be  deficient  in  the 
duties  which  she  vowed." 

"  And  wh)^ — why.  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  should  you  think  your- 
self a  more  valuable  treasure  to  one  who  is  less  capable  of 
loving,  of  admiring  you,  than  to  me  ?  " 

"  Simply  because  the  tone  of  our  affections  would  be  more 
in  unison,  and  because  his  more  blunted  sensibility  would  not 
require  the  return  of  enthusiasm  which  I  have  not  to  bestow. 
But  you,  Mr.  Waverley,  would  forever  refer  to  the  idea  of  do- 
mestic happiness  which  your  imagination  is  capable  of  painting^ 


WAVERLEY.  175 

and  whatever  fell  short  of  that  ideal  representation  •rould  be 
construed  into  coolness  and  indifference,  while  you  might  con- 
sider the  enthusiasm  with  which  I  regarded  the  success  of  the 
royal  family  as  defrauding  your  affection  of  its  due  return." 

"  In  other  words,  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  you  cannot  love  me  ?  '* 
said  her  suitor  dejectedly. 

*'  I  could  esteem  you,  Mr.  Waverley,  as,  much,  perhaps  more, 
than  any  man  I  have  ever  seen  ;  but  I  cannot  love  you  as  you 
ought  to  be  loved.  O  I  do  not,  for  your  own  sake,  desire  so 
"  hazardous  an  experiment.  The  woman  whom  you  marry  ought 
to  have  affections  and  opinions  moulded  upon  yours.  Her 
studies  ought  to  be  your  studies  ; — her  wishes,  her  feelings,  hei 
hopes,  her  fears,  should  all  mingle  with  yours.  She  should 
enhance  your  pleasures,  share  your  sorrows,  and  cheer  your 
melancholy." 

"And  why  will  not  you,  Miss  Mac-Ivor,  who  can  so  well 
describe  a  happy  union,  why  will  not  you  be  yourself  the  person 
you  describe  ? " 

"  Is  it  possible  you  do  not  yet  comprehend  me  ?  "  said  Flora. 
"  Have  I  not  told  you,  that  every  keener  sensation  of  my  mind 
is  bent  exclusively  towards  an  event,  upon  which,  indeed,  I  have 
no  power  but  those  of  my  earnest  prayers  ?  " 

"  And  might  not  the  granting  the  suit  I  solicit,"  said  Waver- 
ley, too  earnest  on  his  purpose  to  consider  what  he  was  about 
to  say,  "  even  advance  the  interest  to  which  you  have  devoted 
yourself  ?  My  family  is  wealthy  and  powerful,  inclined  in  prin- 
ciples to  the  Stuart  race,  and  should  a  favorable  opportu- 
nity " 

"  A  favorable  opportunity  1 "  said  Flora,  somewhat  scorn* 
fully,  "  Inclined  in  principles  ! — Can  such  lukewarn  adherencQ 
be  honorable  to  yourselves,  or  gratifying  to  your  lawful  sov- 
ereign ? — Think,  from  my  present  feelings,  what  I  should  suffer 
when  I  held  the  place  of  member  in  a  family  where  the  rights 
which  I  hold  most  sacred  are  subjected  to  cold  discussion,  and 
only  deemed  worthy  of  support  when  they  shall  appear  on  the 
point  of  triumphing  without  it .''  " 

"  Your  doubts,"  quickly  replied  Waverley,  "  are  unjust  as 
far  as  concerns  myself.  The  cause  that  I  shall  assert,  1  dare 
support  through  every  danger,  as  undauntedly  as  the  boldest 
who  draws  sword  in  its  behalf." 

"  Of  that,"  answered  Flora,  "  I  cannot  doubt  for  a  moment. 
But  consult  your  own  good  sense  and  reason  rather  than  a  pre- 
possession hastily  adopted,  probably  only  because  you  have 
met  a  young  woman  possessed  of  the  usual  accomplishments 


,y6  iVAVERLEY. 

In  a  sequestered  and  romantic  situation.  Let  your  part  in  this 
great  and  perilous  drama  rest  upon  conviction,  and  not  on  a 
hurried,  and  probably  a  temporary  feeling." 

Waverley  attempted  to  reply,  but  his  words  failed  him. 
Every  sentiment  that  Flora  had  uttered  vindicated  the  strength 
of  his  attachment ;  for  even  her  loyalty,  although  wildly  enthu- 
siastic, was  generous  and  noble,  and  disdained  to  avail  itself  of 
any  indirect  means  of  supporting  the  cause  to  which  she  was 
devoted. 

After  walking  a  little  way  in  silence  down  the  path,  Flora 
thus  resumed  the  conversation. — "  One  word  more,  Mr.  Waver- 
ley, ere  we  bid  farewell  to  this  topic  forever  ;  and  forgive  my 
boldness  if  that  word  have  the  air  of  advice.  My  brother  Fer- 
gus is  anxious  that  you  should  join  him  in  liis  present  enter 
prise.  But  do  not  consent  to  this; — you  could  not,  by  your 
single  exertions,  further  his  success,  and  you  would  inevitably 
share  his  fall,  if  it  be  God's  pleasure  that  fall  he  must.  Your 
character  would  also  suffer  irretrievably.  Let  me  beg  you  will 
return  to  your  own  country  ;  and,  having  publicly  freed  yourself 
from  every  tie  to  the  usurping  government,  I  trust  you  will  see 
cause,  and  find  opportunity,  to  serve  your  injured  sovereign 
with  effect,  and  stand  forth,  as  your  loyal  ancestors,  at  the  head 
of  your  natural  followers  and  adherents,  a  worthy  representative 
of  the  house  of  Waverley." 

"  And  should  I  be  so  happy  as  thus  to  distinguish  myself 
might  I  not  hope" 

"  Forgive  my  interruption,"  said  Flora.  "  The  present 
time  only  is  ours,  and  I  can  but  explain  to  you  with  candor  the 
feelings  which  I  now  entertain  ;  how  they  might  be  altered  by 
a  train  of  events  too  favorable  perhaps  to  be  hoped  for,  it  were 
in  vain  even  to  conjecture :  Only  be  assured,  Mr.  Waverley, 
that,  after  my  brother's  honor  and  happiness,  there  is  none 
which  I  shall  more  sincerely  pray  for  than  for  yours." 

With  these  words  she  parted  from  him,  for  they  were  now 
arrived  where  two  paths  separated.  Waverley  reached  the  cas- 
tle amidst  a  medley  of  conflicting  passions.  He  avoided  any 
private  interview  with  Fergus,  as  he  did  not  find  himself  able 
either  to  encounter  his  raillery,  or  reply  to  his  solicitations. 
The  wild  revelry  of  the  feast,  for  Mac-Ivor  kept  open  table  foi 
his  clan,  sensed  in  some  degree  to  stun  reflection.  When  their 
festivity  was  ended,  he  began  to  consider  how  he  should  again 
meet  Miss  Mac-Ivor  after  the  painful  and  interesting  expla- 
nation of  the  morning.  But  Flora  did  not  appear.  Fergus, 
whose  eyes  Hashed  when  he  was  told  by  Cathleea  that  bei 


WAVhXLEY.  xTI 

mistress  designed  to  keep  her  apartment  tliat  evening,  went 
himself  in  quest  of  her ;  but  apparently  his  remonstrances  were 
in  vain,  for  he  returned  with  a  heightened  complexion,  and 
manifest  symptoms  of  displeasure.  The  rest  of  the  evening 
passed  on  without  any  allusion,  on  the  part  either  of  Fergus  or 
Waverley,  to  the  subject  which  engrossed  the  reflections  of  the 
latter,  and  perhaps  of  both. 

When  retired  to  his  own  apartment,  Edward  endeavored  to 
sum  up  the  business  of  the  day.  That  the  repulse  he  had  re- 
ceived from  Flora  would  be  persisted  in  for  the  present,  there 
was  no  doubt.  But  could  he  hope  for  ultimate  success  in  case 
circumstances  permitted  the  renewal  of  his  su;t  ?  Would  the 
enthusiastic  loyalty,  which  at  this  animating  moment  left  no 
room  for  a  softer  passion,  survive,  at  least,  in  its  engrossing 
force,  the  success  or  the  failure  of  the  present  political  mach- 
inations ?  And  if  so,  could  he  hope  that  the  interest  which  she 
had  acknowledged  him  to  possess  in  her  favor,  might  be  im- 
proved into  a  warmer  attachment  ?  He  taxed  his  memory  to 
recall  every  word  she  had  used,  with  the  appropriate  looks  and 
gestures  which  had  enforced  them,  and  ended  by  finding  him- 
self in  the  same  state  of  uncertainty.  It  was  very  late  before 
sleep  brought  relief  to  the  tumult  of  his  mind,  after  the  most 
painful  and  agitating  day  which  he  had  ever  passed. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

A  LETTER    FROM   TULLY-VEOLAN. 

Iw  the  morning,  when  Waverley's  troubled  reflections  Jhad 
lor  some  time  given  way  to  repose,  there  came  music  to  his 
dre&ms,  but  not  the  voice  of  Selma.  He  imagined  himsell 
transported  back  to  Tully-Veolan,  and  that  he  heard  Davie 
Gellatley  singing  in  the  court  those  matins  which  used  gener- 
ally to  be  the  first  sounds  that  disturbed  his  repose  while  a 
guest  of  the  Baron  of  Bradwarcline.  The  notes  which  suggested 
this  vision  continued,  and  waxed  louder,  until  Edward  awoke 
in  earnest.  The  illusion,  however,  did  not  seem  entirely  dis- 
pelled. The  apartment  was  in  the  fortress  of  Ian  nan  Chaistel, 
but  it  was  still  the  voice  of  Davie  Gellatley  that  made  the  fok 
jDwing  lines  resound  under  the  window : 


178  waverley: 

My  heart's  in  the  Highlands,  my  heart  is  not  here, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  a-chasing  the  uccr  , 
A-chasing  the  wild  deer,  and  following  the  roe. 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  wherever  I  go. 

Curi<>  Js  to  know  what  could  have  determined  Mr.  Geiiat].<:\ 
on  an  excursion  of  such  unwonted  extent,  Edward  began  ta 
dress  himself  in  all  haste,  during  which  operation  the  minstrelsy 
of  Davie  changed  its  tune  more  than  once  : 

There's  nought  in  the  Highlands  but  syboes  and  leeks, 
And  lang-leggit  callants  gaun  wanting  the  breeks  ; 
Wanting  the  breeks,  and  without  hose  and  shoon, 
But  we'll  a'  win  the  breeks  when  King  Jamie  comes  hame. 

By  the  time  Waverley  was  dressed  and  had  issued  forth, 
David  had  associated  himself  with  two  or  three  of  the  numerous 
Highland  loungers  who  always  graced  the  gates  of  the  castle 
with  their  presence,  and  was  capering  and  dancing  full  merrily 
in  the  doubles  and  full  career  of  a  Scotch  foursome  reel,  to  the 
music  of  his  own  whistling.  In  this  double  capacity  of  dancer 
and  musician  he  continued,  until  an  idle  piper,  who  observed 
his  zeal,  obeyed  the  unanimous  call  of  Seid siias  (J.  e.,  blowup,) 
and  relieved  him  from  the  latter  part  of  his  trouble.  Young  and 
old  then  mingled  in  ;:he  dance  as  they  could  find  partners.  The 
app<^arance  of  Waverley  did  not  interrupt  David's  exercise, 
though  he  contrived,  by  grinning,  nodding,  and  throwing  one  or 
two  inclinations  of  the  body  into  the  graces  with  which  he  per- 
formed the  Highland  fling,  to  convey  to  our  hero  symptoms  of 
recognition.  Then,  while  busily  employed  in  setting,  whoop- 
ing all  the  while  and  snapping  his  fingers  over  his  head,  he  of 
a  sudden  prolonged  his  side-step  until  it  brought  him  to  the 
place  where  Edward  was  standing,  and,  still  keeping  time  to 
the  music  like  Harlequin  in  a  pantomime,  he  thrust  a  letter  into 
our  hero's  hand,  and  continued  his  salutation  without  pause 
or  intermission.  Edward,  who  perceived  that  the  address  was 
in  Rose's  handwriting,  retired  to  peruse  it,  leaving  the  faithful 
bearer  to  continue  his  exercise  until  the  piper  or  he  should  be 
tired  out. 

The  contents  of  the  letter  greatly  surprised  him.  It  had 
originally  commenced  with,  Dear  Sir  ;  but  these  words  had 
been  carefully  erased,  and  the  monosyllable.  Sir,  substituted 
in  their  place.  The  rest  of  the  contents  shall  be  given  in 
Rose's  own  language. 

"  I  fear  I  am  using  an  improper  freedom  by  intruding  upon 
you,  yet  I  cannot  trust  to  anyone  else  to  let  you  know  some 
things  which  have  happened  here,  with  which  it  seems  neces- 


WAVER  LEY. 


179 


sary  you  should  be  acquainted.  Forgive  me,  if  I  am  wrong  iu 
what  I  am  doing  ;  for,  alas  !  Mr.  Waverley,  I  have  no  better  ad- 
vice than  that  of  my  own  feelings  j — my  dear  father  is  gone 
from  this  place,  and  when  he  can  return  to  my  assistance  and 
protection,  God  alone  knows.  You  have  probably  heard  that, 
in  consequence  of  some  troublesome  news  from  the  Highlands, 
warrants  were  sent  out  for  apprehending  several  gentleman  in 
these  parts,  and,  among  others,  my  dear  father.  In  spite  of 
all  my  tears  and  entreaties  that  he  would  surrender  himself  to 
the  government,  he  joined  with  Mr.  Falconer  and  some  other 
gentlemen,  and  they  have  all  gone  northwards,  with  a  body  of 
about  forty  horsemen.  So  I  am  not  so  anxious  concerning 
his  immediate  safety  as  about  what  may  follow  afterwards,  for 
these  troubles  are  only  beginning.  But  all  this  is  nothing  to 
you,  Mr.  Waverley,  only  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  learn 
that  my  father  has  escaped,  in  case  you  happen  to  have  heard 
that  he  was  in  danger. 

"  The  day  after  my  father  went  off,  there  came  a  party  of 
soldiers  to  Tully-Veolan,  and  behaved  very  rudely  to  Bailie 
Macwheeble  ;  but  the  officer  was  very  civil  to  me,  only  said  his 
duty  obliged  him  to  search  for  arms  and  papers.  My  father 
had  provided  against  this  by  taking  away  all  the  arms  except 
the  useless  old  things  which  hung  in  the  hall,  and  he  had  put 
all  his  papers  out  of  the  way.  But  O  !  Mr.  Waverley,  how 
shall  I  tell  you,  that  they  made  strict  inquiry  after  you,  and 
asked  when  you  had  been  at  Tully-Veolan,  and  where  you  now 
were.  The  officer  is  gone  back  with  his  party,  but  a  non-com- 
missioned officer  and  four  men  remain  as  a  sort  of  garrison  in 
the  house.  They  have  hitherto  behaved  very  well,  as  we  are 
forced  to  keep  them  in  good-humor.  But  these  soldiers  ha  /e 
hinted  as  if  on  your  falling  into  their  hands  you  would  be  in 
great  danger ;  I  cannot  prevail  on  myself  to  write  what  wicked 
falsehoods  they  said,  for  I  am  sure  they  are  falsehoods  ;  but 
you  will  best  judge  what  you  ought  to  do.  The  party  that 
returned  carried  off  your  servant  prisoner,  with  your  two  horses, 
and  everything  that  you  left  at  Tully-Veolan.  I  hope  God  will 
protect  you,  and  that  you  will  get  safe  home  to  England, 
where  you  used  to  tell  me  there  was  no  military  violence  nor 
fighting  among  clans  permitted,  but  everything  was  done  accord- 
ing to  an  equal  law  that  protected  all  who  were  harmless  and 
innocent.  1  hope  you  will  exert  your  indulgence  as  to  my 
boldness  in  writing  to  you,  where  it  seems  to  me,  though  per- 
haps erroneously,  that  your  safety  and  honor  are  concerned.  I 
am  sure — at  least  I  think,  my  father  would  approve  of  my  writ* 


l8o  IVAVERLEY. 

ing ;  for  Mr.  Rubric  is  fled  to  his  cousin's  at  the  Duchran,  to 
be  out  of  danger  from  the  soldiers  and  the  whigs,  and  Bailie 
Macwheeble  does  not  like  to  meddle  {lie.  says)  in  other  men's 
concerns,  though  I  hope  what  may  serve  my  father's  friend  at 
such  a  time  as  this,  cannot  be  termed  improper  interference. 
Farewell,  Captain  Waverley.  I  shall  probably  never  see  you 
more  ;  for  it  would  be  very  improper  to  wish  you  to  call  at 
Tully-Veolan  just  now,  even  if  these  men  were  gone  ;  but  I  will 
always  remember  with  gratitude  your  kindness  in  assisting  so 
poor  a  scholar  as  myself,  and  your  attentions  to  my  dear,  dear 
father.  I  remain  your  obliged  servant,  Rose  Comyne  Brad- 
wardine. 

"  P.  S. — I  hope  you  will  send  me  a  line  by  David  Gellatley, 
just  to  say  you  have  received  this,  and  that  you  will  take  care 
of  yourself ;  and  forgive  me  if  I  entreat  you,  for  your  own 
sake,  to  join  none  of  these  unhappy  cabals,  but  escape,  as  fast 
as  possible,  to  your  own  fortunate  country. — My  compliments 
to  my  dear  Flora,  and  to  Glennaqueich.  Is  she  not  as  hand- 
some and  accomplished  as  I  described  her?" 

Thus  concluded  the  letter  of  Rose  Bradwardine,  the  con- 
tents of  which  both  surprised  and  affected  Waverley.  That 
the  Baron  should  fall  under  the  suspicions  of  government,  in 
consequence  of  the  present  stir  among  the  partisans  of  the 
house  of  Stuart,  seemed  only  the  natural  consequence  of  his 
political  predilections ;  but  how  he  himself  should  have  been 
involved  in  such  suspicions,  conscious  that  until  yesterday  he 
had  been  free  from  harboring  a  thought  against  the  prosperity 
of  the  reigning  family,  seemed  inexplicable.  Both  at  Tully- 
Veolan  and  Glennaquoich,  his  host  had  respected  his  engage- 
ments with  the  existing  government,  and  though  enough  passed 
by  accidental  innuendo  that  might  induce  him  to  reckon  the 
Baron  and  the  Chief  among  those  disaffected  gentlemen  who 
were  still  numerous  in  Scotland,  yet  until  his  own  connection 
with  the*  army  had  been  broken  off  by  the  resumption  of  his 
commission,  he  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  they  nourished 
any  immediate  or  hostile  attempts  against  the  present  estab- 
lishment. Still  he  was  aware  that  unless  he  meant  at  once  to 
embrace  the  proposal  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  it  would  deeply  con- 
cern him  to  leave  this  suspicious  neighborhood  without  delay, 
and  repair  where  his  conduct  might  undergo  a  satisfactory  ex- 
amination. Upon  this  he  the  rather  determined,  as  Flora's 
advice  favored  his  doing  so,  and  because  he  felt  inexpressible 
repugnance  at  the  idea  of  being  accessory  to  the  plague  of 
civil  war.     Whatever  were  the  original  rights  ii  the  Stuarts', 


WAVERLEY.  l8| 

calm  reflection  told  him,  that,  omitting  the  question  how  fat 
James  the  Second  could  forfeit  those  of  his  posterity,  he  had, 
according  to  the  united  voice  of  the  whole  nation,  justly  for- 
feited his  own.  Since  that  period,  four  monarchs  had  reigned 
in  peace  and  glory  over  Britain,  sustaining  and  exalting  the 
character  of  the  nation  abroad,  and  its  liberties  at  home. 
Reason  asked,  was  it  worth  while  to  disturb  a  government  sa 
long  settled  and  established,  and  to  plunge  a  kingdom  into  all 
the  miseries  of  civil  war,  for  the  purpose  of  replacing  upon  the 
throne  the  descendants  of  a  monarch  by  whom  it  had  been 
wilfully  forfeited  ?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  his  own  final  con- 
viction of  the  goodness  of  their  cause,  or  the  commands  of  his 
father  or  uncle,  should  recommend  to  him  allegiance  to  the 
Stuarts,  still  it  was  necessary  to  clear  his  own  character  by 
showing  that  he  had  not,  as  seemed  to  be  falsely  insinuated, 
taken  any  step  to  this  purpose,  during  his  holding  the  commis* 
sion  of  the  reigning  monarch. 

The  affectionate  simplicity  of  Rose,  and  her  anxiety  for  his 
safety, — his  sense  too  of  her  unprotected  state,  and  of  the 
terror  and  actual  dangers  to  which  she  might  be  exposed, 
made  an  impression  upon  his  mind,  and  he  instantly  wrote  to 
thank  her  in  the  kindest  terms  for  her  solicitude  on  his  account, 
to  express  his  earnest  good  wishes  for  her  welfare  and  that  of 
her  father,  and  to  assure  her  of  his  own  safety.  The  feelings 
which  this  task  excited  were  speedily  lost  in  the  necessity 
which  he  now  saw  of  bidding  farewell  to  Flora  Mac-Ivor,  per- 
haps forever.  The  pang  attending  this  reflection  was  inexpres- 
sible ;  for  her  high-minded  elevation  of  character,  her  self- 
devotion  to  the  cause  which  she  had  embraced,  united  to  her 
scrupulous  rectitude  as  to  the  means  of  serving  it,  had  vindi- 
cated to  his  judgment  the  choice  adopted  by  his  passions.  But 
time  pressed,  calumny  was  busy  with  his  fame,  and  every  hour's 
delay  increased  the  power  to  injure  it.  His  departure  must  be 
instant. 

With  this  determination  he  sought  out  Fergus,  and  com- 
municated to  him  the  contents  of  Rose's  letter,  with  his  own 
resolution  instantly  to  go  to  Edinburgh,  and  put  into  the  hands 
of  some  one  or  other  of  those  persons  of  influence  to  whom 
he  had  letters  from  his  father,  his  exculpation  from  any  charge 
which  might  be  preferred  against  him. 

"  You  run  your  head  into  the  lion's  mouth,"  answered  Mac- 
Ivor.  "  You  do  not  know  the  severity  of  a  government  har 
rassed  by  just  apprehensions,  and  a  consciousness  of  their  own 
Illegality  and  insecurity.  I  shall  have  to  deliver  you  from  some 
dungeon  in  Stirling  or  Edinburgh  Castle." 


|82  WAVJtRLEY. 

"  My  innocence,  my  rank,  my  father's  intimacy  with  LorA 

M ,  General  G ,  etc.,  will  be  a  sufficient  protection," 

said  Waverley. 

"  You  will  find  the  contrary,"  replied  the  Chieftain  ;  "  these 
gentlemen  will  have  enough  to  do  about  their  own  matters. 
Once  more,  will  you  take  the  plaid,  and  stay  a  little  while  with 
us  among  the  mists  and  the  crows,  in  the  bravest  cause  ever 
sword  was  drawn  in  ?  "  ^* 

"  For  many  reasons,  my  dear  Fergus,  you  must  hold  me 
excused." 

"  Well  then,"  said  Mac-Ivor,  "  I  shall  certainly  find  you 
exerting  your  poetical  talents  in  elegies  upon  a  prison,  or  your 
antiquarian  researches  in  detecting  the  Oggam  ^^  character,  or 
some  Punic  hieroglyphic  upon  the  key-stones  of  a  vault,  curi- 
ously arched.  Or  what  say  you  to  un petit pendement  bien  jolii 
against  which  awkward  ceremony  I  don't  warrant  you,  should 
you  meet  a  body  of  the  armed  west-country  whigs." 

"  And  why  should  they  use  me  so  ?  "  said  Waverley. 

"For  a  hundred  good  reasons,"  answered  Fergus:  "  First, 
you  are  an  Englishman  ;  secondly,  a  gentleman  ;  thirdly,  a  pre- 
latist  abjured  ;  and,  fourthly,  they  have  not  had  an  opportunity 
to  exercise  their  talents  on  such  a  subject  this  long  while.  But 
don't  be  cast  down,  beloved :  all  will  be  done  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord." 

"  Well,  I  must  run  my  hazard." 

"  You  are  determined,  then  ? " 

« I  am." 

"Wilful  will  do't,"  said  Fergus;  "but  you  cannot  go  on 
foot,  and  I  shall  want  no  horse,  as  I  must  ^march  on  foot  at 
the  head  of  the  children  of  Ivor ;  you  shall  have  brown  Der- 
mid." 

"  If  you  will  sell  him,  I  shall  certainly  be  much  obliged." 

"  If  your  proud  English  lieart  cannot  be  obliged  by  a  gift  or 
/can,  I  will  not  refuse  money  at  the  entrance  of  a  campaign  ; 
liis  price  is  twenty  guineas.  [Remember,  reader,  it  was  Sixty 
years  Since.]     And  when  do  you  propose  to  depart  ? " 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  answered  Waverley. 

"  You  are  right,  since  go  you  must,  or  rather,  since  go  you 
will :  I  will  take  Flora's  pony,  and  ride  with  you  as  far  as 
Bally-Brough.  Galium  Beg,  see  that  our  horses  are  ready,  with 
a  pony  for  yourself,  to  attend  and  carry  Mr.  Waverley's  bag- 
gage as  far  as (naming  a  small  town),  where  he  can  have 

a  horse  and  guide  to  Edinburgh.  Put  on  a  Lowland  dress, 
Callum,  and  see  you  keep  your  tongue  close,  if  you  would  not 


Wt^fERLEY.  l8j 

have  me  cut  it  out :  Mr.  Waverley  rides  Dermid.'*    Then  turn- 
ing to  Edward,  "  You  will  take  leave  of  my  sister  ?  " 

"  Surely — that  is,  if  Miss  Mac-Ivor  will  honor  me  so  far." 
"  Cathleen,  let  my  sister  know  Mr.  Waverley  wishes  to  bid 
her  farewell  before  he  leaves  us.  But  Rose  Bradwardine,  her 
situation  must  be  thought  of — I  wish  she  were  here — And  why 
should  she  not  ? — There  are  but  four  red-coats  at  Tully-Veolan, 
and  their  muskets  would  be  very  useful  to  us." 

To  these  broken  remarks  Edward  made  no  answer ;  his  ear 
indeed  received  them,  but  his  soul  was  intent  upon  the  ex- 

i)ected  entrance  of  Flora.  The  door  opened — it  was  but  Cath- 
een,  with  her  lady's  excuse,  and  wishes  for  Captain  Waverley's 
health 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

waverley's  reception  in  the  lowlands  after  his  high- 
land TOUR. 

It  was  noon  when  the  two  friends  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
pass  at  Bally-Brough.  "  I  must  go  no  farther,"  said  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor,  who  during  the  journey  had  in  vain  endeavored  to 
raise  his  friend's  spirits.  *'  If  my  cross-grained  sister  has  any 
share  in  your  dejection,  trust  me  she  thinks  highly  of  you, 
though  her  present  anxiety  about  the  public  cause  prevents  her 
listening  to  any  other  subject.  Confide  your  interest  to  me  j 
I  will  not  betray  it,  providing  you  do  not  again  assume  that  vile 
cockade." 

*'  No  fear  of  that,  considering  the  manner  in  which  it  has 
been  recalled.  Adieu,  Fergus ;  do  not  permit  your  sister  to 
forget  me." 

"  And  adieu,  Waverley ;  you  may  soon  hear  of  her  with  a 
prouder  title.  Get  home,  write  letters,  and  make  friends  as 
many  and  as  fast  as  you  can  ;  there  will  speedily  be  unexpected 
guests  on  the  coast  of  Suffolk,  or  my  news  from  France  has 
deceived  me."  ^ 

Thus  parted  the  friends  ;  Fergus  returning  back  to  his  cas- 
tle, while  Edward,  followed  by  Callum  Beg,  the  latter  trans* 
formed  from  point  to  point  into  a  Low-country  groom,  pro« 
Ceeded  to  the  little  town  of . 

£dward  paced  on  under  the  painful  and  yet  not  altogethel 


iS4  WAVER  LEY, 

embittered  feelings,  which  separation  and  uncerta>ntj'  p'oc^uFt 
in  the  mind  of  a  youthful  lover.  I  am  not  sure  if  the  ladies 
understand  the  full  value  of  the  influence  of  absence,  nor  do  1 
think  it  wise  to  teach  it  them,  lest,  like  the  Clelias  and  Man- 
danes  of  yore,  they  should  resume  the  humor  of  sending  their 
lovers  into  banishment.  Distance,  in  truth,  produces  in  idea 
the  same  effect  as  in  real  perspective.  Objects  are  softened, 
and  rounded,  and  rendered  doubly  graceful ;  the  harsher  and 
more  ordinary  points  of  character  are  mellowed  down,  and 
those  by  which  it  is  remembered  are  the  more  striking  outlines 
that  mark  sublimity,  grace,  or  beauty.  There  are  mists  too  in 
the  mental,  as  well  as  the  natural  horizon,  to  conceal  what  is 
less  pleasing  in  distant  objects,  and  there  are  happy  lights,  to 
stream  in  full  glory  upon  those  points  which  can  profit  by  brill 
iant  illumination. 

Waverley  forgot  Flora  Mac-Ivor's  prejudices  in  her  mag- 
nanimity, and  ahnost  pardoned  her  indifference  towards  his 
affection,  when  he  recollected  the  grand  and  decisive  object 
which  seemed  to  fill  her  whole  soul.  She,  whose  sense  of  duty 
so  wholly  engrossed  her  in  the  cause  of  a  benefactor,  what 
would  be  her  feelings  in  favor  of  the  happy  individual  who 
should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  awaken  them  ?  Then  came  the 
doubtful  question,  whether  he  might  not  be  that  happy  man, — • 
a  question  which  fancy  endeavored  to  answer  in  the  affirma- 
tive, by  conjuring  up  all  she  had  said  in  his  praise,  with  the 
addition  of  a  comment  much  more  flattering  than  the  text  war- 
ranted. All  that  was  commonplace,  all  that  belonged  to  the 
eury-day  world,  was  melted  away  and  obliterated  in  those 
dreams  of  imagination,  which  only  remembered  with  advantage 
the  points  of  grace  and  dignity  that  distinguished  Flora  from 
the  generality  of  her  sex,  not  the  particulars  which  she  held  in 
common  with  them.  Edward  was,  in  short,  in  the  fair  way  of 
creating  a  goddess  out  of  a  high-spirited,  accomplished,  and 
beautiful  3'oung  woman  ;  and  the  time  was  wasted  in  castle- 
building,  until,  at  the  descent  of  a  steep  hill,  he  saw  beneath 
him  the  market-town  of . 

The  Highland  politeness  of  Galium  Beg — there  are  few 
nations,  by  the  way,  that  can  boast  of  so  much  natural  polite* 
ness  as  the  Highlanders^' — the  Highland  civility  of  his  attend- 
ant had  not  permitted  him  to  disturb  the  reveries  of  our  hero. 
But,  observing  him  rouse  himself  at  the  sight  of  the  village, 
Galium  pressed  closer  to  his  side,  and  hoped  "  when  they  cam 
to  the  public,  his  honor  wad  not  say  nothing  about  Vich  las 
Vohr,  for  ta  people  were  bitter  whigs,  de'il  burst  tem," 


WAVE  RLE    .  igj 

Waverley  assured  the  prudent  page  that  he  would  be  cau- 
tious ;  and  as  he  now  distinguished,  not  indeed  the  ringing  of 
bells,  but  the  tinkling  of  something  like  a  hammer  against  the 
side  of  an  old  mossy,  green,  inverted  porridge-pot,  that  hung 
in  an  open  booth,  of  the  size  and  shape  of  a  parrot's  cage, 
erected  to  grace  the  east  end  of  a  building  resembling  an  old 
barn,  he  asked  Galium  Beg  if  it  were  Sunday. 

"  Could  na  say  just  preceesely — Sunday  seldom  cam  aboon 
the  pass  of  Bally-Brough." 

On  entering  the  town,  however,  and  advancing  toward  the 
most  apparent  public-house  which  presented  itself,  the  numbers 
of  old  women,  in  tartan  screens  and  red  cloaks,  who  streamed 
from  the  barn-resembling  building,  debating  as  they  went,  the 
comparative  merits  of  the  blessed  youth  Jabesh  Rentowel,  and 
that  chosen  vessel  Maister  Goukthrapple,  induced  Galium  to  as- 
jure  his  temporary  master,  "  that  it  was  either  ta  muckle  Sunday 
hersel,  or  ta  little  government  Sunday  that  they  ca'd  ta  fast." 

Upon  alighting  at  the  sign  of  the  Seven-branched  Golden 
Candlestick,  which,  for  the  further  delectation  of  the  guests, 
was  graced  with  a  short  Hebrew  motto,  they  were  received  by 
mine  host,  a  tall  thin  puritanical  figure,  who  seemed  to  debate 
with  himself  whether  he  ought  to  give  shelter  to  those  who 
travelled  on  such  a  day.  Reflecting,  however,  in  all  probability, 
that  he  possessed  the  power  of  mulcting  them  for  this  irregu- 
larity, a  penalty  which  they  might  escape  by  passing  into  Gregor 
Duncanson's,  at  the  sign  of  the  Highlander  and  the  Hawick  Gill, 
Mr.  Ebenezer  Gruickshanks  condescended  to  admit  them  into 
his  dwelling. 

To  this  sanctified  person  Waverley  addressed  his  request, 
that  he  would  procure  him  a  guide,  with  a  saddle-horse,  to  carry 
his  portmanteau  to  Edinburgh. 

"And  whar  may  ye  be  coming  from?"  demanded  mfne 
host  of  the  Candlestick. 

"  I  have  told  you  where  I  wish  to  go  :  I  do  not  conceive 
any  further  information  necessary  either  for  the  guide  or  his 
saddle-horse." 

"  Hem  !  Ahem  ! "  returned  he  of  the  Candlestick,  some- 
what disconcerted  at  this  rebuff.  "  It's  the  general  fast,  sir, 
and  I  cannot  enter  into  ony  carnal  transactions  on  sic  a  day, 
when  the  people  should  be  humbled,  and  the  backsliders  should 
return,  as  worthy  Mr.  Goukthrapple  said  ;  and  moreover  wlien, 
as  the  precious  Mr.  Jabesh  Rentowel  did  weel  obser\e,  the 
land  was  mourning  for  covenants  burnt,  broken,  and  buried." 

•*  My  good  friend,"  said  Waver'  y,  "if  you  cannot  let  m9 


lS5  WAVE  RLE  Y. 

have  a  norse  ana  guide,  my  servant  shall  seek  them  etse* 
where." 

"  A  vveel  I  Your  servant  ? — and  what  for  gangs  he  not  for- 
ward wi'  you  himsel  ?  " 

Waverley  had  but  very  little  of  a  captain  of  horse's  spirit 
within  him — I  mean  "of  that  sort  of  spirit  which  I  have  been 
obliged  to  when  I  happened,  in  a  mail-coach  or  diligence,  to 
meet  some  military  man  who  has  kindly  taken  upon  him  the 
disciplining  of  the  waiters,  and  the  taxing  of  reckonings.  Some 
of  this  useful  talent  our  hero  had,  however,  acquired  during  his 
military  service,  and  on  this  gross  provocation  it  began  seriously 
to  arise,  "  Look  ye,  sir,  I  came  here  for  my  own  accommoda- 
tion, and  not  to  answer  impertinent  questions.  Either  say  you 
can,  or  cannot,  get  me  what  I  want ;  I  shall  pursue  my  course 
in  either  case." 

Mr.  Ebenezer  Cruickshanks  left  the  room  with  some  indis- 
tinct muttering,  but  whether  negative  or  acquiescent,  Edward 
could  not  well  distinguish.  The  hostess,  a  civil,  quiet,  laborious 
drudge,  came  to  take  his  orders  for  dinner,  but  declined  to 
make  answer  on  the  subject  of  the  horse  and  guide  ;  for  the 
Salique  law,  it  seems,  extended  to  the  stables  of  the  Golden 
Candlestick. 

From  a  window  which  overlooked  the  dark  and  narrow 
court  in  which  Galium  Beg  rubbed  down  the  horses  after  their 
journey,  Waverley  heard  the  following  dialogue  betwixt  the 
subtle  foot-page  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr  and  his  landlord  : 

"  Ye'll  be  f rae  the  north,  young  man  ?  "  began  the  latter. 

"  And  ye  may  say  that,"  answered  Galium. 

"  And  ye'll  hae  ridden  a  lang  way  the  day,  it  may  weel  be  ?  " 

**  Sae  lang,  that  I  could  weel  tak  a  dram." 

"  Gudewife,  bring  the  gill  stoup." 

Here  some  compliments  passed,  fitting  the  occasion,  when 
my  host  of  the  Golden  Candlestick,  having,  as  he  thought, 
opened  his  guest's  heart  by  this  hospitable  propitiation,  re- 
sumed his  scrutiny. 

"  Ye'll  no  hae  mickle  better  whiskey  than  that  aboon  the 
Pass  ? " 

"  I  am  nae  frae  aboon  the  Pass." 

**  Ye're  a  Highlandman  by  your  tongue!" 

"  Na,  I  am  but  just  Aberdeen-a-way." 

••And  did  your  master  come  frae  Aberdeen  wi'  you  ?  " 

**  Ay — that's  when  I  left  it  mysel,"  answered  the  cool  and 
Unpenetrable  Galium  Beg. 

•*  And  what  kind  of  a  gentleman  is  he  ?  " 


WAVERLEY.  l8^ 

**  I  be1i«ve  he  is  ane  o'  King  George's  state  officers  j  at 
least  he's  aye  for  ganging  on  to  the  south,  and  he  has  a  hantle 
siller,  and  never  grudges  onything  till  a  poor  body,  or  in  the 
^•ay  of  a  lawing." 

**  He  wants  a  guide  and  a  horse  frae  hence  to  Edinburgh?** 

"  Ay,  and  ye  maun  find  it  him  forthwith." 

**  Ahem  I  It  will  be  chargeable." 

"  He  cares  na  for  that  a  bodle." 

**  Aweel,  Duncan — Did  ye  say  your  name  was  Duncan  of 
Donald  ?  " 

"  Na,  man — ^Jamie — ^Jamie  Steenson — I  telt  ye  before," 

This  last  undaunted  parry  altogether  foiled  Mr.  Cruickshanks, 
who,  though  not  quite  satisfied  either  with  the  reserve  of  the 
master,  or  the  extreme  readiness  of  the  man,  was  contented  to 
(ay  a  tax  on  the  reckoning  and  horsehire,  that  might  compound 
for  his  ungratified  curiosity.  The  circumstance  of  its  being  the 
fast-day  was  not  forgotten  in  the  charge,  which  on  the  whole,  did 
not,  however,  amount  to  much  more  than  double  what  in  fair- 
ness it  should  have  been. 

Galium  Beg  soon  after  announced  in  person  the  ratification 
of  this  treaty,  adding,  *'  Ta  auld  deevil  was  ganging  to  ride 
wi'  ta  Dulnhe-wassel  hersel." 

"  That  will  not  be  very  pleasant,  Galium,  nor  altogether  safe, 
for  our  host  seems  a  person  of  great  curiosity ;  but  a  traveller 
must  submit  to  these  inconveniences.  Meanwhile,  my  good  lad, 
here  is  a  trifle  for  you  to  drink  Vich  Ian  Vohr's  health." 

The  hawk's  eye  of  Galium  flashed  delight  upon  a  golden 
guinea,  with  which  these  last  words  were  accompanied.  He 
hastened,  not  without  a  curse  on  the  intricacies  of  a  Saxon 
breeches  pocket,  or  spleuchan,  as  he  called  it,  to  deposit  the 
treasure  in  his  fob  ;  and  then,  as  if  he  conceived  the  benevo" 
Jence  called  for  some  requital  on  his  part,  he  gathered  close 
up  to  Edward,  with  an  expression  of  countenance  peculiarly 
knowing,  and  spoke  in  an  undertone,  "If  his  honor  thought 
ta  auld  deevil  whig  carle  was  a  bit  dangerous,  she  could  easily 
provide  for  him,  and  teil  ane  ta  wiser." 

"  How,  and  in  what  manner  ?  " 

"  Her  ain  sell,"  replied  Galium,  *'  could  wait  for  him  a  wee 
bit  frae  the  toun,  and  kittle  his  quarters  wi'  her  skene-ocde.''* 

'*  Skene-occle  I  what's  that  ? " 

**  Galium  unbuttoned  his  coat,  raised  his  left  arm,  and,  with 
an  emphatic  nod,  pointed  to  the  hilt  of  a  small  dirk,  snugly 
deposited  under  it,  in  the  lining  of  his  jacket.  Waverley 
thought  he  had  misunderstood  his  meaning ;  he  gazed  in  hu 


WAVER  LEV. 

face,  and  discovered  in  Callum's  very  handsome,  though  em 
browned  features,  just  the  degree  of  roguish  malice  with  which 
a  lad  of  the  same  age  in  England  would  have  brought  forward 
a  plan  for  robbing  an  orchard. 

"Good  God,  Galium,  would  you  take  the  man's  life  ? " 

**  Indeed,"  answered  the  young  desperado,  "and  I  think 
|ie  has  had  just  a  lang  enough  lease  o't,  when  he's  for  betraying 
honest  folk,  that  come  to  spend  siller  at  his  public." 

Edward  saw  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  argument,  and 
therefore  contented  himself  with  enjoining  Galium  to  lay  aside 
all  practices  against  the  person  of  Mr.  Ebenezer  Gruickshanks, 
in  which  injunction  the  page  seemed  to  acquiesce  with  an  air 
of  great  indifference. 

"  Ta  Duinhe-wassel  might  please  himsel  ;  ta  auld  rudas 
loon  had  never  done  Galium  nae  ill.  But  here's  a  bit  line  frae 
ta  Tighearna,  tat  he  bade  me  gie  your  honor  ere  I  came  back." 

*'  The  letter  from  the  Ghief  contained  Flora's  lines  on  the 
fate  of  Gaptain  Wogan,  whose  enterprising  character  is  so  well 
drawn  by  Glarendon.  He  had  originally  engaged  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Parliament,  but  had  abjured  that  party  upon  the 
execution  of  Gharles  I.,  and  upon  hearing  that  the  royal  stand- 
ard was  set  up  by  the  Earl  of  Glencairn  and  General  Middle- 
ton,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  took  leave  of  Gharles  H. 
who  was  then  at  Paris,  passed  into  England,  assembled  a  body 
of  Gavaliers  in  the  neighborhood  of  London,  and  traversed  the 
kingdom,  which  had  been  so  long  under  domination  of  the 
usurper,  by  marches  conducted  with  such  skill,  dexterity,  and 
spirit,  that  he  safely  united  his  handful  of  horsemen  with  the 
body  of  Highlanders  then  in  arms.  After  several  months  of 
desultory  warfare,  in  which  Wogan's  skill  and  courage  gained 
him  the  highest  reputation,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  be  wounded 
in  a  dangerous  manner,  and  no  surgical  assistance  being  within 
reach,  he  terminated  his  short  but  glorious  career. 

There  were  obvious  reasons  why  the  politic  Ghieftain  was 
desirous  to  place  the  example  of  this  young  hero  under  the  eye 
of  Waverley,  with  whose  romantic  disposition  it  coincided  so 
peculiarly.  But  his  letter  turned  chiefly  upon  some  trifling 
commissions  which  Waverley  had  promised  to  execute  for  him 
in  England,  and  it  was  only  toward  the  conclusion  that  Edward 
found  these  words  : — "  I  owe  Flora  a  grudge  for  refusing  us 
her  company  yesterday  ;  and  as  I  am  giving  you  the  trouble  of 
reading  these  lines,  in  order  to  keep  in  your  memory  your 
promise  to  procure  me  the  fishing-tackle  and  cross-bow  from 
lX)ndon,  I  will  enclose  her  verses  on  the  Grave  of  Wogan. 


This  I  know  will  teaze  her;  for,  to  tell  y6u  the  truth,  T  think 
her  more  in  love  with  the  memory  of  that  dead  hero,  than  she 
is  likely  to  be  with  any  living  one,  unless  he  shall  tread  a  simi- 
lar path.  But  English  squires  of  our  day  keep  their  oak-trees 
to  shelter  their  deep  parks,  or  repair  the  losses  of  an  evening 
at  White's,  and  neither  invoke  them  to  wreath  their  brows,  or 
shelter  their  graves.  Let  me  hope  for  one  brilliant  exception 
in  a  dear  friend,  to  whom  I  would  most  gladly  give  a  dearer 
title." 

The  verses  were  inscribed, 

TO  AN  OAK  TREE, 

Mr  VBB  CHURCHYARD   OF ,   IN   THE    HIGHLANDS  OF  SCOTLAND,  SAW  «% 

MARK   THE   GRAVE   OF   CAPTAIN   WOGAN,  KILLED    IN    1649. 

Emblem  of  England's  ancient  faith, 

Full  proudly  may  thy  branches  wave, 
Where  loyalty  lies  low  in  death, 

And  valor  fills  a  timeless  grave. 

And  thou,  brave  tenant  of  the  tombf 

Repine  not  if  our  clime  deny, 
Above  thine  honor'd  sod  to  bloom. 

The  flowrets  of  a  milder  sky. 

These  ov/e  their  birth  to  genial  May; 

Beneath  a  fiercer  sun  tliey  pine, 
Before  the  winter  storm  decay — 

And  can  their  wortli  be  type  of  thinef 

No !  for  'mid  storms  of  Fate  opposing. 

Still  higher  swell'd  thy  dauntless  heart, 
And,  while  Despair  the  scene  was  closing, 

Commenced  the  brief  but  brilliant  part. 

Twas  then  thou  sought'st  on  Albyn's  hill, 
(When  England's  sons  the  strife  resign'd,) 

A  rugged  race  resisting  still, 
And  unsubdued  though  unrefined. 

Thy  death's  hour  heard  no  kindred  wail, 

No  holy  knell  thy  requiem  rung  ; 
Thy  mourners  were  the  plaidcd  Gael, 

Thy  d  rge  the  Ciamorous  pibroch  sung. 

Yet  who,  in  Fortune's  summer-shine. 

To  waste  life's  longest  term  away. 
Would  change  that  glorious  dawn  of  thine^ 

Though  darken'd  ere  its  iioontide  day  f 

Be  thine  the  Tree  whose  dauntless  boughs, 
Brave  summer's  drought  and  winter's  g\oOKit 

Bome  boimd  with  oak  her  patriot's  brows, 
Am  Albvn  shadows  Wog««'s  tomb 


190 


WAl'ERLEy. 


Whatever  might  be  the  real  merit  of  Flora  Mac-Ivor's 
poetry,  the  enthusiasm  which  it  intimated  was  well  calculated 
to  make  a  corresponding  impression  upon  her  lover.  The  lines 
were  read — read  again — then  deposited  in  Waverley's  bosom—* 
then  again  drawn  out,  and  read  line  by  line,  in  a  low  and 
smothered  voice,  and  with  frequent  pauses  which  prolonged  the 
mental  tre>t,  as  an  Epicure  protracts,  by  sipping  slowly,  the 
enjoyment  of  a  delicious  beverage.  The  entrance  of  Mrs. 
Cruickshanks,  with  the  sublunary  articles  of  dinner  and  wine 
hardly  interrupted  this  pantomime  of  affectionate  enthusiasm. 

At  length  the  tall  ungainly  figure  and  ungracious  visage  of 
Ebenezer  presented  themselves.  The  upper  part  of  his  form, 
notwithstanding  the  season  required  no  such  defence,  was 
shrouded  in  a  large  great-coat,  belted  over  his  under  habili- 
ments, and  crested  with  a  huge  cowl  of  the  same  stuff,  which, 
when  drawn  over  the  head  and  hat,  completely  overshadowed 
both,  and  being  buttoned  beneath  the  chin,  was  called  a  trot' 
cozy.  His  hand  grasped  a  huge  jock-whip,  garnished  with  brass 
mounting.  His  thin  legs  tenanted  a  pair  of  gambadous,  fast- 
ened at  the  sides  with  rusty  clasps.  Thus  accoutred,  he  stalked 
into  the  midst  of  the  apartment,  and  announced  his  errand  in 
brief  phrase  : — "  Ye're  horses  are  ready." 

"  You  go  with  me  yourself  then,  landlord  ? " 

"  I  do,  as  far  as  Perth  ;  where  ye  may  be  supplied  with  a 
guide  to  Embro',  as  your  occasion  shall  require." 

Thus  saying,  he  placed  under  Waverley's  eye  the  bill  which 
he  held  in  his  hand  ;  and  at  the  same  time,  self-invited,  filled  a 
jlass  of  wine,  and  drank  devoutly  to  a  blessing  on  their  journey. 
Waverley  stared  at  the  man's  impudence,  but,  as  their  connec 
tion  was  to  be  short,  and  promised  to  be  convenient,  he  made 
no  observation  upon  it ;  and,  having  paid  his  reckoning,  ex 
pressed  his  intention  to  depart  immediately.  He  mounted 
Dermid  accordingly,  and  sallied  forth  from  the  Golden  Candle 
stick,  followed  by  the  puritanical  figure  we  have  described 
^er  Tie  had,  at  the  expense  of  some  time  and  difficulty,  and  by 
Uie  assistance  of  a  "  louping-on-stane,"  or  structure  of  masonry 
erected  for  the  traveller's  convenience  jn  front  of  tho  house, 
elevated  his  person  to  the  back  of  a  long-backed,  raw-boned, 
thin-gutted  phantom  of  a  broken-down  blood  horse,  or.  .vhich 
Waverley's  portmanteau  was  deposited  Our  hero,  though  not  in 
a  very  gay  humor,  could  hardly  help  laughing  at  the  appearance 
of  his  new  squire,  and  at  imagining  the  astonishment  which  his 
-«erson  and  equipage  would  have  excited  at  Waverley-Honour 

Edward's  tendency  to  mirth  did  not  escape  mine  •»* 


WAVERLEVi  IQf 

the  Candlestick,  wno,  conscious  of  the  cause,  infused  a  double 
portion  of  souring  into  the  pharasaical  leaven  of  his  counte- 
nance, and  resolved  internally  that,  in  one  way  or  other,  the 
young  Englishcr  should  pay  dearly  for  the  contempt  with  which 
he  seemed  to  regard  him.  Galium  also  stood  at  the  gate,  and 
enjoyed,  with  undissembled  glee,  the  ridiculous  figure  of  Mr. 
Cruickshanks.  As  Waverley  passed  him,  he  pulled  off  his  hat 
respectfully,  and,  approaching  his  stirrup,  bade  him  "  Tak  heed 
the  auld  whig  deevil  played  him  nae  cantrip." 

Waverley  once  more  thanked,  and  bade  him  farewell,  and 
then  rode  briskly  onward,  not  sorry  to  be  out  of  hearing  of  the 
shouts  of  the  children,  as  they  beheld  old  Ebenezer  rise  and 
sink  in  his  stirrups,  to  avoid  the  concussions  occasioned  by  a 

hard  trot  upon  a  half-paved  street.    The  village  of was 

soon  several  miles  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  THIRTIETH. 


SHOWS  THAT  THE   LOSS  OF  A  HORSE's  SHOE   MAY   BE  A  SERIOUS 

INCONVENIENCE. 

The  manner  and  air  of  Waverley,  but,  above  all,  the  glitter- 
ing contents  of  his  purse,  and  the  indifference  with  which  he 
seemed  to  regard  them,  somewhat  overawed  his  companion, 
and  deterred  him  from  making  any  attempts  to  enter  upon  con- 
versation. His  own  reflections  were  moreover  agitated  by 
various  surmises,  and  by  plans  of  self-interest,  with  which  these 
(Vere  intimately  connected.  The  travellers  journeyed,  therefore, 
in  silence,  until  it  was  interrupted  by  the  annunciation,  on  the 
part  of  the  guide,  that  his  "  naig  had  lost  a  fore-foot  shoe, 
which,  doubtless,  his  honor  would  consider  it  was  his  part  to 
replace."  This  was  what  lawyers  call  a  fishing  quesiiofi,  calcu- 
lated to  ascertain  how  far  Waverley  was  disposed  to  submit  to 
petty  imposition.  "  My  part  to  replace  your  horse's  shoe,  you 
rascal  1  "  said  Waverley,  mistaking  the  purport  of  the  intima* 
tion. 

"  Indubitably,"  answered  Mr.  Cruickshanks  ;  *'  though  there 
were  no  preceese  clause  to  that  effect,  it  canna  be  expected 
that  I  am  to  pay  for  the  casualties  whilk  may  befall  the  puij 
naig  while  in  your  honor's  service. — Nathless  if  your  honor  "— • 


19  ^v 


iVAVERLEY. 


"  O,  you  mean  I  am  to  pay  the  farrier  ;  out  wiiere  shall  we 
find  one  ? " 

Rejoiced  at  discerning  there  would  be  no  objection  made 
on  the  part  of  his  temporary  master,  Mr.  Cruickshanks  assured 
him  that  Cairnvreckan,  a  village  which  they  were  about  to  enter, 
was  happy  in  an  excellent  blacksmith  ;  "  but  as  he  was  a  pro- 
fessor, he  would  drive  a  nail  for  no  man  on  the  Sabbath,  or 
kirk-fast,  unless  it  were  in  a  case  of  absolute  necessity,  for 
which  he  always  charge  sixpence  each  shoe."  The  most  im- 
portant part  of  this  communication,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
speaker,  made  a  very  slight  impression  on  the  hearer,  who 
only  internally  wondered  what  college  this  veterinary  professor 
belonged  to ;  not  aware  that  the  word  was  used  to  denote  any 
person  who  pretended  to  uncommon  sanctity  of  faith  and 
manner. 

As  they  entered  the  village  of  Cairnvreckan,  they  speedily 
distinguished  the  smith's  house.  Being  also  a  public,  it  was 
two  stories  high,  and  proudly  reared  its  crest,  covered  with 
gray  slate,  above  the  thatched  hovels  by  which  it  was  sur- 
rounded. The  adjoining  smithy  betokened  none  of  the  Sab- 
batical silence  and  repose  which  Ebenezer  had  augured  from 
the  sanctity  of  his  friend.  On  the  contrary,  hammer  clashed 
and  anvil  rang,  the  bellows  groaned,  and  the  whole  apparatus 
of  Vulcan  appeared  to  be  in  full  activity.  Nor  was  the  labor 
of  a  rural  and  pacific  nature.  The  master  smith,  benempt,  as 
his  sign  intimated,  John  Mucklewrath,  v.-ith  two  assistants,  toiled 
busily  in  arranging,  repairing,  and  furbishing  old  muskets, pistols, 
and  swords,  which  lay  scattered  around  his  workshop  in 
military  confusion.  .  The  open  shed,  containing  the  forge,  was 
crowded  with  persons  who  came  and  went  as  if  receiving  and 
communicating  important  news  ;  and  a  single  glance  at  the 
aspect  of  the  people  who  traversed  the  street  in  haste,  or  stood 
assembled  in  groups,  with  eyes  elevated,  and  hands  uplifted, 
announced  that  some  extraordinary  intelligence  was  agitating 
the  public  mind  of  the  municipality  of  Cairnvreckan.  "There 
is  some  news,"  said  mine  host  of  the  Candlestick,  pushing  his 
lantern-jawed  visage  and  bare-boned  nag  rudely  forward  into 
the  crowd — "there  is  some  news,  and  if  it  please  my  Creator, 
I  will  forthwith  obtain  speerings  thereof." 

Waverley,  with  better  regulated  curiosity  than  his  attendant's, 
dismounted,  and  gave  his  horse  to  a  boy  who  stood  idling  near. 
It  arose,  perhaps,  from  the  shyness  of  his  character  in  early 
youth,  that  he  felt  dislike  at  applying  to  a  stranger  even  for 
casual  information,  without  previously  glancing  at  his  physiog- 


WAVhRLBY. 


193 


nomy  and  appearance.  While  he  looked  about  in  order  to 
select  the  person  with  whom  he  would  most  willingly  hold  com 
munication,  the  buzz  around  saved  him  in  some  degree  the 
trouble  of  interrogatories.  The  names  of  Lochiel,  Clanronald, 
Glengarry,  and  other  distinguished  Highland  Chiefs,  among 
whom  Vich  Ian  Vohr  was  repeatedly  mentioned,  were  as 
familiar  in  men's  mouths  as  household  words ;  and  from  the 
alarm  generally  expressed,  he  easily  conceived  that  their  de 
scent  into  the  Lowlands,  at  the  head  of  their  armed  tribes,  had 
either  already  taken  place,  or  was  instantly  apprehended. 

Ere  Waverley  could  ask  particulars,  a  strong,  large-boned, 
hard-featured  woman,  about  forty,  dressed  as  if  her  clothes 
had  been  flung  on  with  a  pitchfork,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  a 
scarlet  red  where  they  were  not  smutted  with  soot  and  lamp- 
black, jostled  through  the  crowd,  and  brandishing  high  a  child 
of  two  years  old,  which  she  danced  in  her  arms,  without  re- 
gard to  its  screams  of  terror,  sang  forth,  with  all  her  might,— 

"  Charlie  is  my  darling,  my  darling,  my  darling, 
Charlie  is  my  darling. 

The  young  Chevalier.*' 

**  D'ye  hear  what's  come  ower  ye  now,"  continued  the  vira 
go,  "ye  whingeing  whig  carles?  D'ye  hear  wha's  coining  to 
cow  yer  cracks  ? 

"  Little  wot  ye  wha's  coming, 
Little  wot  ye  wha's  coming, 

A'  the  wild  Macraws  are  coming." 

The  Vulcan  of  Cairnvreckan,  who  acknowledged  his  Venus 
in  this  exulting  Bacchante,  regarded  her  with  a  grim  and  ire* 
foreboding  countenance,  while  some  of  the  senators  of  the 
village  hastened  to  Interpose.  "  Whisht,  gudewife  ;  is  this  a 
time,  or  is  this  a  day,  to  be  singing  your  ranting  fule  sangs  in  ? 
— a  time  when  the  wine  of  wrath  is  poured  out  without  mixture 
in  the  cup  of  indignation,  and  a  day  when  the  land  should 
give  testimony  against  popery,  and  prelacy,  and  quakerism,  and 
independency,  and  supremacy,  and  erastianism,  and  antino* 
mianism  and  a'  the  errors  of  the  church .?" 

"And  that's  a'  your  whiggery,"  re-echoed  the  Jacobite 
heroine ;  "  that's  a'  your  whiggery,  and  your  presbytery,  ye  cut- 
lugged,  graning  carles  !  What !  d'ye  think  the  lads  wi'  the 
kilts  will  care  for  yer  synods  and  ycr  presbyteries,  and  yer  but- 
tock-mail, and  yer  stool  o'  repentance .?  Vengeance  on  the 
black  face  o't!  mony  an  honester  woman's  l^^en  set  uix)n  it 
than  streeks  doon  beside  onv  whig  in  the  country.    I  mj^el— — r" 


,94  WAVER  LEY. 

Here  John  Mucklewrath,  who  dreaded  her  entering  upon  9 
detail  of  personal  experience,  interposed  his  matrimonial  au- 
thority.    "  Gae  home,  and  be   d (that  I   should  say  sae), 

and  put  on  the  sowens  for  supper." 

"  And  you,  ye  doil'd  dotard,"  replied  his  gentle  helpmate, 
her  wrath,  which  had  hitherto  wandered  abroad  over  the  whole 
assembly,  being  at  once  and  violently  impelled  into  its  natural 
channel,  "_;r  stand  there  hammering  dog-heads  for  fules  that 
will  never  snap  them  at  a  Highlandman,  instead  of  earning 
bread  for  your  family,  and  shoeing  this  winsome  young  gentle- 
man's horse  that's  just  come  frae  the  north  1  I'se  war»rant  him 
nane  of  your  whingeing  King  George  folk,  but  a  gallant  Gor- 
don, at  the  least  o'  him." 

The  eyes  of  the  assembly  were  now  turned  upon  Waverley, 
who  took  the  opportunity  to  beg  the  smith  to  shoe  his  guide's 
horse  with  all  speed,  as  he  wished  to  proceed  on  his  journey  , 
for  he  had  heard  enough  to  make  him  sensible  that  there  would 
be  danger  in  delaying  long  in  this  place.  The  smith's  eyes 
rested  on  him  with  a  look  of  displeasure  and  suspicion,  not 
lessened  by  the  eagerness  with  which  his  wife  enforced  Waver- 
ley's  mandate.  "  D'ye  hear  what  the  weel-favored  young  gentle- 
man says,  ye  drunken  ne'er-do-good  ?  " 

"  And  what  may  your  name  be,  sir  ?  "  quoth  Mucklewrath. 

*'  It  is  of  no  consequence  to  you,  my  friend,  provided  I  pay 
four  labor." 

*'  But  it  may  be  of  consequence  to  the  state,  sir,"  replied  an 
old  farmer,  smelling  strongly  of  whiskey  and  peat-smoke  ;  "  and 
I  doubt  we  maun  delay  your  journey  till  you  have  seen  the 
laird." 

*'  You  certainly,"  said  Waverley,  haughtily,  "  will  find  it 
both  difficult  and  dangerous  to  detain  me,  unless  you  can  pro 
duce  some  proper  authority." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  a  whisper  among  the  crowd— 
•*  Secretary  Murray  ; "  "Lord  Lewis  Gordon;"  "Maybe  the 
Chevalier  himsel  1 "  Such  were  the  surmises  that  passed  hur- 
riedly among  them,  and  there  was  obviously  an  increased  dis- 
position to  resist  Waverley's  departure.  He  attempted  to  argue 
mildly  with  them,  but  his  voluntary  ally,  Mrs.  Mucklewrath, 
broke  in  upon  and  drowned  his  expostulations,  taking  his  part 
with  an  abusive  violence,  which  was  all  set  down  to  Edward's 
account  by  those  on  whom  it  was  bestowed.  "  Ye' 11  stop  ony 
gentleman  that's  the  Prince's  freend  ? "  for  she  too,  though 
with  other  feelings,  had  adopted  the  general  opinion  respecting 
Waverley.    "  I  daur  ye  to  touch  him,"  spreading  abroad  hel 


WAVER  LEY. 


19s 


long  and  muscular  fingers,  garnished  with  claws  which  a  vul* 
ture  might  have  envied.  "  I'll  set  my  ten  commandments  in 
the  face  o'  the  first  loon  that  lays  a  finger  on  him." 

*'  Gae  hame,  gudewife,"  quoth  the  farmer  aforesaid  ;  "  it 
wad  better  set  you  to  be  nursing  the  gudeman's  bairns  than  to 
be  deaving  us  here." 

"  His  bairns  ? "  retorted  the  Amazon,  regarding  her  hu» 
band  with  a  grin  of  ineffable  contempt — "  His  bairns  I 

"  O  gin  ye  were  dead,  gudeman, 
And  a  green  turf  on  your  head,  gudeman  I 

Then  I  wad  ware  my  widowhood 
Upon  a  ranting  Highlandman." 

This  canticle,  which  excited  a  suppressed  titter  among'  the 
younger  part  of  the  audience,  totally  overcame  the  patience  of 
the  taunted  man  of  the  anvil.  "  De'il  be  in  me  but  I'll  put 
this  het  gad  down  her  throat !  "  cried  he,  in  an  ecstacy  of  wrath, 
snatching  a  bar  from  the  forge  ;  and  he  might  have  executed 
his  threat,  had  he  not  been  withheld  by  a  part  of  the  mob,  while 
the  rest  endeavored  to  force  the  termagant  out  of  his  presence. 

Waverley  meditated  a  retreat  in  the  confusion,  but  his  horse 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  At  length  he  observed,  at  some  dis- 
tance, his  faithful  attendant,  Ebenezer,  who,  as  soon  as  he  had 
perceived  the  turn  matters  were  likely  to  take,  had  withdrawn 
both  horses  from  the  press,  and,  mounted  on  the  one,  and 
holding  the  other,  answered  the  loud  and  repeated  calls  of 
Waverley  for  his  horse,  "  Na,  na !  if  ye  are  nae  friend  to  kirk 
and  the  king,  and  are  detained  as  siccan  a  person,  ye  maun  an- 
swer to  honest  men  of  the  country  for  breach  of  contract; 
and  I  maun  keep  the  nalg  and  the  walise  for  damage  and  ex- 
pense, in  respect  my  horse  and  mysel  will  lose  to-morrow's 
day's  wark,  besides  the  afternoon  preaching." 

Edward,  out  of  patience,  hemmed  in  and  hustled  by  the 
tabble  on  every  side,  and  every  moment  expecting  personal  vio- 
lence, resolved  to  try  measures  of  intimidation  and  at  length 
drew  a  pocket-pistol,  threatening,  on  the  one  hand,  to  shoot 
whomsoever  dared  to  stop  him,  and  on  the  other,  menacing 
Ebenezer  with  a  similar  doom,  if  he  stirred  a  foot  with  the 
horses.  The  sapient  Partridge  says  that  one  man  with  a  pis- 
tol is  equal  to  a  hundred  unarmed,  because,  though  he  can 
shoot  but  one  of  the  multitude,  yet  no  one  knows  but  that  he 
himself  may  be  that  luckless  individual.  The  levy  en  masse  of 
Cairnvreckan  would  therefore  probably  have  given  way,  nor 
would  Ebenezer,  whose  natural  paleness  had  waxed  three  shades 
Jnore  cadaverous,  have  ventured  to  dispute  a  mandate  so  en- 


tgb 


WAVERLEY. 


forced,  had  not  the  Vulcan  of  the  village,  eager  to  discharge  upon 
some  more  worthy  object  the  fury  which  his  helpmate  had  pro- 
voked, and  not  ill  satisfied  to  find  such  an  object  in  Waverley, 
rushed  at  him  with  the  red-hot  bar  of  iron,  with  such  determina- 
tion, as  made  the  discharge  of  his  pistol  an  act  of  self-defence. 
The  unfortunate  man  fell ;  and  while  Edward,  thrilled  with  a  nat- 
ural horror  at  the  incident,  neither  had  presence  of  mind  to  un- 
sheath  his  sword,  nor  to  draw  his  remaining  pistol,  the  populace 
threw  themselves  upon  him,  disarmed  him,  and  were  about  to  use 
him  with  great  violence,  when  the  appearance  of  a  venerable 
clergyman,  the  pastor  of  the  parish,  put  a  curbon  their  fury. 

This  worthy  man  (none  of  the<ioukthrapples  or  Rentowels) 
maintained  his  character  with  the  common  people,  although  he 
preached  the  practical  fruits  of  Christian  faith,  as  well  as  its 
abstract  tenets,  and  was  respected  by  the  higher  orders,  not- 
withstanding he  declined  soothing  their  speculative  errors  by 
converting  the  pulpit  of  the  gospel  into  a  school  cf  henthen 
morality.  Perhaps  it  is  owing  to  this  mixture  of  faith  and 
practice  in  his  doctrine,  that,  although  his  memory  has  formed 
a  sort  of  era  in  the  annals  of  Cairnvreckan,  so  that  the 
parishioners,  to  denote  what  befell  Sixty  Years  Since,  still  say 
it  happened  "  in  good  Mr.  Morton's  time,"  I  have  never  been 
able  to  discover  which  he  belonged  to,  the  evangelical  or  the 
moderate  party  in  the  kirk.  Nor  do  I  hold  the  circumstance 
of  much  moment,  since,  in  my  own  remembrance,  the  one  was 
headed  by  an  Erskine,  the  other  by  a  Robertson.®^ 

Mr.  Morton  had  been  alarmed  by  the  discharge  of  the  pis- 
tol, and  the  increasing  hubbub  around  the  smithy.  His  first 
attention,  after  he  had  directed  the  bystanders  to  detain  Wa- 
verley,  but  to  abstain  from  injuring  him,  was  turned  to  the  body 
of  Mucklewrath,  over  which  his  wife,  in  a  revulsion  of  feelings 
was  weepmg,  howling,  and  tearing  her  elf-locks,  in  a  state  little 
short  of  distraction.  Upon  raising  up  the  smith,  the  first  dis- 
covery was,  that  he  was  alive ;  and  the  next,  that  he  was  likely 
to  Jive  as  long  as  if  he  had  never  heard  the  report  of  a  pistol 
in  his  life.  He  had  made  a  narrow  escape,  however;  the 
bullet  had  grazed  his  head,  and  stunned  him  for  a  moment  or 
two,  which  trance,  terror  and  confusion  of  spirit  had  prolonged 
somewhat  longer.  He  now  arose  to  demand  vengeance  on  the 
person  of  Waverley,  and  with  difficulty  acquiesced  in  the  pro- 
posal of  Mr.  Morton,  that  he  should  be  carried  before  the  laird, 
as  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  placed  at  his  disposal.  The  rest 
of  the  assistants  unanimously  agreed  to  the  measure  recom- 
mended;   even    Mrs.   Mucklewrath,  who  had  begun  to  re« 


PVAVERLEY.  igf 

cover  from  her  hysterics,  whimpered  forth — "  She  wadna  say 
naething  against  what  the  minister  proposed  ;  he  was  e'en  ower 
gude  for  his  trade,  and  she  hoped  to  see  him  wi'  a  dainty 
decent  bishop's  gown  on  his  back  ;  a  comelier  sight  than  your 
Geneva  cloaks  and  bands,  I  wis." 

All  controversy  being  thus  laid  aside,  Waverley,  escorted 
by  the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  village,  who  were  not  bed-rid- 
den, was  conducted  to  the  house  of  Cairnvreckan.  which  was 
about  half  a  mile  distant. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIRST. 

AN    EXAMINATION. 

Major  Melville  of  Cairnvreckan,  an  elderly  gentleman, 
who  has  spent  his  youth  in  the  military  service,  received  Mr. 
Morton  with  great  kindness,  and  our  hero  with  civility,  which 
the  equivocal  circumstances  wherein  Edward  was  placed,  ren* 
dered  constrained  and  distant. 

The  nature  of  the  smith's  hurt  was  inquired  into,  and  as  the 
actual  injury  was  likely  to  prove  trifling,  and  the  circumstances 
in  which  it  was  received,  rendered  the  infliction,  on  Edward's 
part,  a  natural  act  of  self-defence,  the  Major  conceived  he 
might  dismiss  that  matter,  on  Waverley's  depositing  in  his  hands 
a  small  sum  for  the  benefit  of  the  wounded  person. 

"  I  could  wish,  sir,"  continued  the  Major,  "  that  my  duty 
terminated  here  ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  have  some 
further  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  your  journey  through  the 
country  at  this  unfortunate  and  distracted  time." 

Mr.  E^benezer  Cruickshanks  now  stood  forth,  and  communi- 
cated to  the  magistrate  all  he  knew  or  suspected,  from  the  re- 
serve of  Waverley,  and  the  evasions  of  Callum  Beg.  The  horse 
upon  which  Edward  rode,  he  said,  he  knew  to  belong  to  Vich 
Ian  Vohr,  though  he  dared  not  tax  Edward's  former  attendant 
with  the  fact,  lest  he  should  have  his  house  and  stables  burnt 
over  his  head  some  night  by  that  godless  gang,  the  Mac-Ivors. 
He  concluded  by  exaggerating  his  own  services  to  the  kirk  and 
state,  as  having  been  the  means,  under  God  (as  he  modestly 
qualified  the  assertion)  of  attaching  this  suspicious  and  formid* 


jgS  WAVEJiLEV. 

able  delinquent.  He  intimated  hopes  of  future  reward,  and  ot 
lnsj:ant  reimbursement  for  loss  of  time,  and  even  of  character, 
by  travelling  on  the  state  business  on  the  fast-day. 

To  this  Major  Melville  answered,  with  great  composure, 
that  so  far  from  claiming  any  merit  in  this  affair,  Mr.  Cruick- 
shanks  ought  to  deprecate  the  imposition  of  a  very  heavy  fine 
for  neglecting  to  lodge,  in  terms  of  the  recent  proclamation,  an 
account  with  the  nearest  magistrate  of  any  stranger  who  came 
to  his  inn  ;  that,  as  Mr.  Cruickshanks  boasted  so  much  of  re- 
ligion and  loyalty,  he  should  not  impute  this  conduct  to  dis- 
affection, but  only  suppose  that  his  zeal  for  kirk  and  state  had 
been  lulled  asleep  by  the  opportunity  of  charging  a  stranger 
with  double  horse-hire  ;  that,  however,  feeling  himself  incom- 
petent to  decide  singly  upon  the  conduct  of  a  person  of  such 
importance,  he  should  reserve  it  for  consideration  of  the  next 
quarter-sessions.  Now  our  history  for  the  present  saith  no 
more  of  him  of  the  Candlestick,  who  wended  dolorous  and  mal- 
content back  to  his  own  dwelling. 

Major  Melville  then  commanded  the  villagers  to  reti  rn  to 
their  homes,  excepting  two,  who  officiated  as  constables,  and 
whom  he  directed  to  wait  below.  The  apartment  was  thus 
cleared  of  exQxy  person  but  Mr.  Morton,  whom  the  Major  in- 
vited to  remain  ;  a  sort  of  factor,  who  acted  as  clerk  ;  and 
Waverley  himself.  There  ensued  a  painful  and  embarrassed 
pause,  till  Major  Melville,  looking  upon  Waverley  with  much 
compassion,  and  often  consulting  a  paper  or  memorandum 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  requested  to  know  his  name. 

"  Edward  Waverley." 

"  I  thought  so  ;  late  of  the dragoons,  and  nephew  of 

Sir  Everard  Waverley,  of  Waverley-Honour  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  Young  gentleman,  I  am  extremely  sorry  that  this  painful 
duty  has  fallen  to  my  lot." 

"  Duty,  Major  Melville,  renders  apologies  superfluous." 

"  True,  sir ;  permit  me,  therefore,  to  ask  you  how  your 
time  has  been  disposed  of  since  you  obtained  leave  of  absence 
from  your  regiment,  several  weeks  ago,  until  the  present  mo- 
ment?" 

"  My  reply,"  said  Waverley,  "  to  so  general  a  question 
must  be  guided  by  the  nature  of  the  charge  which  renders  it 
necessary.  I  request  to  know  w^hat  that  charge  is,  and  upon 
what  authority  I  am  forcibly  detained  to  reply  to  it  ?  " 

"  The  charge,  ]Mr.  Waverley,  I  grieve  to  say,  is  of  a  very 
high  nature,  and  affects  your  character  both  as  a  soldier  and  a 


WAVBRLBY.  I99 

«ubject.  In  the  tormer  capacity,  you  are  charged  with  spreading 
mutiny  and  rebellion  among  the  men  you  commanded,  and 
setting  them  the  example  of  desertion,  by  prolonging  your  own 
absence  from  the  regiment,  contrary  to  the  express  orders  ol 
your  commanding  officer.  The  civil  crime  of  which  you  stand 
accused  is  that  of  high-treason,  and  levying  war  against  the 
king,  the  highest  delinquency  of  which  a  subject  can  be 
guilty." 

"  And  by  what  authority  am  I  detained  to  reply  to  such 
heinous  calumnies  ? " 

*'  By  one  which  you  must  not  dispute,  nor  I  disobey." 

He  handed  to  Waverley  a  warrant  from  the  Supreme 
Criminal  Court  of  Scotland,  in  full  form,  for  apprehending  and 
securing  the  person  of  Edward  Waverley,  Esq.,  suspected  of 
treasonable  practices  and  other  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors. 

The  astonishment  which  Waverley  expressed  at  this  com- 
munication was  imputed  by  Major  Melville  to  conscious  guilt, 
while  Mr.  Morton  was  rather  disposed  to  construe  it  into  the 
surprise  of  innocence  unjustly  suspected.  There  was  some- 
thing true  in  both  conjectures  ;  for  although  Edward's  mind 
acquitted  him  of  the  crimes  with  which  he  was  charged,  yet  a 
hasty  review  of  his  own  conduct  convinced  him  he  might  have 
great  difficulty  in  establishing  his  innocence  to  the  satisfaction 
of  others. 

"  It  is  a  very  painful  part  of  this  painful  business,"  said 
Major  Melville,  after  a  pause,  "  that,  under  so  grave  a  charge, 
I  must  necessarily  request  to  see  such  papers  as  you  have  on 
your  person." 

"  You  shall,  sir,  without  reserve,"  said  Edward,  throwing 
his  pocket-book  and  memorandums  upon  the  table  ;  "  there  is 
but  one  with  which  I  could  wish  you  would  dispense." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Waverley,  I  can  indulge  you  with  no  re- 
servation." 

**  You  shall  see  it  then,  sir  j  and  as  it  can  be  of  no  service, 
I  beg  it  may  be  returned." 

He  took  from  his  bosom  the  lines  he  had  that  morning  re- 
ceived, and  presented  them  wifh  the  envelope.  The  Major 
perused  them  in  silence,  and  directed  his  clerk  to  make  a  copy 
of  them.  He  then  wrapped  the  copy  in  the  envelope,  and 
placing  it  on  the  table  before  him,  returned  the  original  to 
Waverley,  with  an  air  of  melancholy  gravity. 

After  indulging  the  prisoner,  for  such  our  hero  must  now 
be  considered,  with  what  he  thought  a  reasonable  time  for  re- 
flection. Major  Melville  resumed  his  examination,  premisingi 


t«0 


WAVERLEY. 


that  as  Mr.  Waverley  seemed  to  object  to  general  question^ 
his  interrogatories  should  be  as  specific  as  his  information  per* 
mitted.  He  then  proceeded  in  his  investigation,  dictating,  as 
he  went  on,  the  import  of  the  questions  and  answers  to  the 
amanuensis,  by  whom  it  was  written  down. 

"  Did  Mr.  Waverley  know  one  Humphry  Houghton,  a  non- 
commissioned officer  in  Gardiner's  dragoons  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  he  was  sergeant  of  my  troop,  and  son  of  a 
tenant  of  my  uncle." 

"  Exactly — and  had  a  considerable  share  of  your  confi- 
dence, and  an  influence  among  his  comrades  ?  " 

"  I  had  never  occasion  to  repose  confidence  in  a  person  of 
his  description,"  answered  Waverley.  *'  I  favored  Sergeant 
Houghton  as  a  clever,  active  young  fellow,  and  I  believe  liis 
fellow-soldiers  respected  him  accordingly." 

"  But  you  used  through  this  man,"  answered  Major  Mel- 
ville, "  to  communicate  with  such  of  your  troop  as  were  re- 
cruited upon  Waverley-Honour  ? " 

"  Certainly  ;  the  poor  fellows,  finding  themselves  in  a  regi- 
ment chiefly  composed  of  Scotch  or  Irish,  looked  up  to  me  in 
any  of  their  little  distresses,  and  naturally  made  their  countr)'- 
man,  and  sergeant,  their  spokesman  on  such  occasions." 

"  Sergeant  Houghton's  influence,"  continued  the  Major, 
"extended,  then,  particularly  over  those  soldiers  who  followed 
you  to  the  regiment  from  your  uncle's  estate  ?  " 

"  Surely  ; — but  what  is  that  to  the  present  purpose  ?  " 

**  To  that  I  am  just  coming,  and  I  beseech  your  candid  re- 
ply. Have  you,  since  leaving  the  regiment,  held  any  corre- 
spondence, direct  or  indirect,  with  this  Sergeant  Houghton  ? " 

"  I ! — I  hold  correspondence  with  a  man  of  his  rank  and 
situation  ! — How,  or  for  what  purpose  ?  " 

"  That  you  are  to  explain  ; — but  did  you  not,  for  example, 
send  to  him  for  some  books  ?  " 

"  You  remind  me  of  a  trifling  commission,"  said  Waver- 
ley, "  which  I  gave  Sergeant  Houghton,  because  my  servant 
could  not  read.  I  do  recollect  I  bade  him,  by  letter,  select 
some  books,  of  which  I  sent  him  a  list,  and  send  them  to  me 
at  Tully-Veolan." 

*'  And  of  what  description  were  those  books  ?  " 

" They  related  almost  entirely  to  elegant  literature:  they 
were  designed  for  a  lady's  perusal." 

"Were  there  not,  Mr.  Waverley,  treasonable  tracts  and 
pamphlets  among  them  ?  " 

"  There  were  some  political  treatises,  into  which  I  hardljf 


tVAVERLEY.        ^  20i 

tooked.  They  had  been  sent  to  me  by  the  officiousness  of  a 
kind  friend,  whose  heart  is  more  to  be  esteemed  than  his  pru- 
dence or  political  sagacity :  they  seemed  to  be  dull  composi- 
tions." 

"  That  friend,"  continued  the  persevering  inquirer,  "was  a 
Mr.  Pembroke,  a  non-juring  clergyman,  the  author  of  two  trea- 
sonable works,  of  which  the  manuscripts  were  found  among 
your  baggage  ? " 

"  But  of  which,  I  give  you  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,"  re- 
plied Waverley,  "  I  never  read  six  pages." 

"  I  am  not  your  judge,  Mr.  Waverley  ;  your  examination 
will  be  transmitted  elsewhere.  And  now  to  proceed — Do  you 
know  a  person  that  passes  by  the  name  of  Wily  Will,  or  Will 
Ruthven  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  name  till  this  moment." 

"  Did  you  never  through  such  a  person,  or  any  other  per- 
son, communicate  with  Sergeant  Humphry  Houghton,  instigat- 
ing him  to  desert,  with  as  many  of  his  comrades  as  he  could 
seduce  to  join  him,  and  unite  with  the  Highlanders  and  other 
rebels  now  in  arms,  under  the  command  of  the  young  Preten- 
der ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  I  am  not  only  entirely  guiltless  of  the  plot 
you  have  laid  to  my  charge,  but  I  detest  it  from  the  very  bot- 
tom of  my  soul,  nor  would  I  be  guilty  of  such  treachery  to 
gain  a  throne,  either  for  myself  or  any  other  man  alive." 

"  Yet  when  I  consider  this  envelope  in  the  handwriting  of 
one  of  those  misguided  gentlemen  who  are  now  in  arms 
against  their  country,  and  the  verses  which  it  enclosed,  I  cannot 
but  find  some  analogy  between  the  enterprise  I  have  mentioned 
and  the  exploit  of  Wogan,  which  the  writer  seems  to  expect 
you  should  imitate." 

Waverley  was  struck  with  the  coincidence,  but  denied  that 
the  wishes  or  expectations  of  the  letter-writer  were  to  be  re- 
garded as  proofs  of  a  charge  otherwise  chimerical. 

"  But,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  your  time  was  spent,  during 
your  absence  from  the  regiment,  between  the  house  of  this 
Highland  Chieftain,  and  that  of  Mr.  Bradwardine,  of  Bradwar- 
dine,  also  in  arms  for  this  unfortunate  cause  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  disguise  it ;  but  I  do  deny,  most  reso^ 
lately,  being  privy  to  any  of  their  designs  against  the  govern- 
ment." 

"  You  do  not,  however,  I  presume,  intend  to  deny  that 
you  attended  your  host  Glennaquoich  to  a  rendezvous,  where, 
under  pretence  of  a  gener?'  hunting  match,  most  of  the  ao 


ao2  WAVER  LEY. 

complices  of  his  treason  were  assembled  to  concert  measures 
for  taking  arms  ?  " 

"  I  acknowledge  having  been  at  such  a  meeting,"  said 
Waverley  ;  "  but  I  neither  heard  nor  saw  anything  which  could 
give  it  the  character  you  affix  to  it." 

"  From  thence  you  proceeded,"  continued  the  magistrate, 
'*  with  Glennaquoich  and  a  part  of  his  clan,  to  join  the  army 
of  the  young  J.'retender,  and  returned  after  having  paid  your 
homage  to  him,  to  discipline  and  arm  the  remainder,  and  unite 
them  to  his  bands  on  their  way  southward  ?  " 

"  I  npv-er  went  with  Glennaquoich  on  such  an  errand.  I 
never  so  much  as  heard  that  the  person  whom  you  mention  was 
in  the  country." 

He  then  detailed  the  history  of  his  misfortune  at  the  hunt- 
ing match,  and  added,  that  on  his  return  he  found  himself  sud' 
denly  deprived  of  his  commission,  and  did  not  deny  that  he 
then,  for  the  first  time,  observed  symptoms  which  indicated  a 
disposition  in  the  Highlands  to  take  arms  ;  but  added,  that 
having  no  inclination  to  join  their  cause,  and  no  longer  any 
reason  for  remaining  in  Scotland,  he  was  now  on  his  return  to 
his  native  country,  to  which  he  had  been  summoned  by  those 
who  had  a  right  to  direct  his  motions,  as  Major  Melville  would 
perceive  from  the  letters  on  the  table. 

Major  Melville  accordingly  perused  the  letters  of  Richard 
Waverley,  of  Sir  Everard,  and  of  Aunt  Rachel,  but  the  infer- 
ences he  drew  from  them  were  different  from  what  Waverley  ex- 
pected. They  held  the  language  of  discontent  with  government, 
threw  out  no  obscure  hints  of  revenge,  and  that  of  poor  Aunt 
Rachel,  which  plainly  asserted  the  justice  of  the  Stuart  cause, 
was  held  to  contain  the  open  avowal  of  what  the  others  only 
ventured  to  insinuate. 

"  Permit  me  another  question,  Mr.  Waverley,"  said  Major 
Melville, — "  Did  you  not  receive  repeated  letters  from  your 
commanding-officer,  warning  you  and  commanding  you  to  re- 
turn to  your  post,  and  acquainting  you  with  the  use  made  of 
your  name  to  spread  discontent  among  your  soldiers  ?  " 

"  I  never  did,  Major  Melville.  One  letter,  indeed,  I  received 
from  him  containing  a  civil  intimation  of  his  wish  that  I  would 
employ  my  leave  of  absence  otherwise  than  in  constant  resi' 
dence  at  Bradwardine,  as  to  which,  I  own,  I  thought  he  was 
not  called  on  to  interfere  ;  and,  finally,  I  received,  on  the  same 
day  on  which  I  observed  myself  superseded  in  the  Gazette,  a 
second  letter  from  Colonel  Gardiner,  commanding  me  to  join 
the  regiment,  an  order  which,  owing  to  my  absence,  already 


WAVER  LEY. 


203 


mentioned  and  accounted  for,  I  received  too  late  to  be  obeyed. 
If  there  were  any  intermediate  letters,  and  certainly  from  the 
Colonel's  high  character  I  think  it  probable  that  there  were, 
they  have  never  reached  me." 

"  I  have  omitted,  Mr.  Waverley,"  continued  Major  Melville^ 
"  to  inquire  after  a  matter  of  less  consequence,  but  which  has 
nevertheless  been  publicly  talked  of  to  your  disadvantage.  It 
is  said,  that  a  treasonable  toast  having  been  proposed  in  your 
hearing  and  presence,  you,  holding  his  Majesty's  commission, 
suffered  the  task  of  resenting  it  to  devolve  upon  another  gentle- 
man of  the  company.  This,  sir,  cannot  be  charged  against 
you  in  a  court  of  justice ;  but  if,  as  I  am  informed,  the  officers 
of  your  regiment  requested  an  explanation  of  such  a  rumor,  as 
a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  I  cannot  but  be  surprised  that  you 
did  not  afford  it  to  them." 

This  was  too  much.  Beset  and  pressed  on  every  hand  by 
accusations,  in  which  gross  falsehood  were  blended  with  such 
circumstances  of  truth  as  could  not  fail  to  procure  them  credit, 
• — alone,  unfriended,  and  in  a  strange  land,  Waverley  almost 
gave  up  his  life  and  honor  for  lost,  and,  leaning  his  head  upon 
his  hand,  resolutely  refused  to  answer  any  further  questions, 
since  the  fair  and  candid  statement  he  had  already  made  had 
only  served  to  furnish  arms  against  him. 

Without  expressing  either  surprise  or  displeasure  at  the 
change  in  Waverley's  manner.  Major  Melville  proceeded  com- 
posedly to  put  several  other  queries  to  him.  "  What  does  it 
avail  me  to  answer  you  ?  "  said  Edward  sullenly.  "  You  appear 
convinced  of  my  guilt,  and  wrest  every  reply  I  have  made  to 
support  your  own  preconceived  opinion.  Enjoy  your  supposed 
triumph,  then,  and  torment  me  no  further.  If  I  am  capable  of 
the  cowardice  and  treachery  your  charge  burdens  me  with,  I  am 
not  worthy  to  be  believed  in  any  reply  I  can  make  you.  If  I  am 
not  deserving  of  your  suspicion — and  God  and  my  own  con- 
science bear  evidence  with  me  that  it  is  so — then  I  do  not  see 
why  I  should,  by  my  candor,  lend  my  accusers  arms  against 
my  innocence.  There  is  no  reason  I  should  answer  a  word 
more,  and  I  am  determined  to  abide  by  this  resolution."  And 
again  he  resumed  his  posture  of  sullen  and  determined  silence. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  to  remind  you  of  one 
reason  that  may  suggest  the  propriety  of  a  candid  and  open 
confession.  The  inexperience  of  youth,  Mr.  Waverley,  lays  it 
open  to  the  plans  of  the  more  designing  and  artful  ;  and  one  of 
your  friends  at  least — I  mean  Mac-Ivor  of  Olennaquoich — ranks 
high  in  the  latter  class,  as,  from  your  apparent  ingenuousness, 


204  WAP'EJiLEV. 

youth,  and  unacquaintance  with  the  manners  of  the  HighlandSj 
I  should  be  disposed  to  place  you  among  the  former.  In  sucli 
a  case,  a  false  step,  or  error  like  yours,  which  I  shall  be  happy 
to  consider  as  involuntary,  may  be  atoned  for,  and  I  would 
willingly  act  as  intercessor.  But  as  you  must  necessarily  be 
acquainted  with  the  strength  of  the  individuals  in  this  coun- 
try' who  have  assumed  arms,  with  their  means,  and  with  their 
plans,  I  must  expect  you  will  merit  this  mediation  on  my  part 
by  a  frank  and  candid  avowal  of  all  that  has  come  to  your 
knowledge  upon  these  heads.  In  which  case,  I  think  I  can 
venture  to  promise  that  a  very  short  personal  restraint  wiil  be 
the  only  ill  consequence  that  can  arise  from  your  accession  to 
these  unhappy  intrigues." 

Waverley  listened  with  great  composure  until  the  end  of 
this  exhortation,  when,  springing  from  his  seat,  with  an  energy 
he  had  not  yet  displayed,  he  replied,  "  Major  Melville,  since 
that  is  your  name,  I  have  hitherto  answered  your  questions  with 
candor,  or  declined  them  with  temper,  because  their  import 
concerned  myself  alone ;  but  as  you  presume  to  esteem  me 
mean  enough  to  commence  informer  against  others,  who  re- 
ceived me,  whatever  may  be  their  public  misconduct,  as  a  guest 
and  friend, — I  declare  to  you  that  I  consider  your  questions  as 
an  insult  infinitely  more  offensive  than  your  calumnious  suspi- 
cions ;  and  that,  since  my  hard  fortune  permits  me  no  other 
mode  of  resenting  them  than  by  verbal  defiance,  you  should 
sooner  have  my  heart  out  of  my  bosom  than  a  single  syllable 
of  information  upon  subjects  which  I  could  only  become  ac- 
quainted with  in  the  full  confidence  of  unsuspecting  hospitality." 

Mr.  Morton  and  the  Major  looked  at  each  other,  and  the 
former,  who,  in  the  course  of  the  examination,  had  been  re- 
peatedly troubled  with  a  sorr}-  rheum,  bad  recourse  to  his  snuff- 
box and  his  handkerchief. 

"  Mr.  Waverley,"  said  the  Major,  "  my  present  situation 
prohibits  me  alike  from  giving  or  receiving  offence,  and  I  will 
not  protract  a  discussion  which  approaches  to  either.  I  am 
afraid  I  must  sign  a  warrant  for  detaining  you  in  custody,  but 
this  house  shall  for  the  present  be  your  prison.  I  fear  I  cannot 
persuade  you  to  accept  a  share  of  our  supper? — (Edward  shook 
his  head) — but  I  will  order  refreshments  in  your  apartment." 

Our  hero  bowed  and  withdrew,  under  guard  of  the  officers 
of  justice,  to  a  small  but  handsome  room,  where,  declining  a'i 
offers  of  food  or  wine,  he  flung  himself  on  the  bed,  and,  stup* 
fied  by  the  harassing  events  and  mental  fatigue  of  this  miser- 
able day,  he  sunk  into  a  deep  and  heavy  slumber.    This  waC 


WAVhRLEY. 


205 


more  ttian  he  himself  could  have  expected ;  but  it  is  mentioned 
of  the  North  American  Indians,  when  at  the  stake  of  torture, 
that  on  the  least  intermission  of  agony,  they  wi'l  sleep  until  the 
fire  is  applied  to  awaken  them. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SECOND. 

A  CONFERENCE   AND  THE  CONSEQUENCE. 

Major  Melville  had  detained  Mr.  Morton  during  his  ex 
amination  of  Waverley,  both  because  he  thought  he  might  de- 
rive assistance  from  his  practical  good  sense  and  approved 
loyalty,  and  also  because  it  was  agreeable  to  have  a  witness  of 
unimpeached  candor  and  veracity  to  proceedings  which  touched 
the  honor  and  safety  of  a  young  Englishman  of  high  rank  and 
family,  and  the  expectant  heir  of  a  large  fortune.  Every  step 
he  knew  would  be  rigorously  canvassed,  and  it  was  his  business 
to  place  the  justice  and  integrity  of  his  own  conduct  beyond  the 
Hmits  of  question. 

When  Waverley  retired,  the  Laird  and  Clergyman  of  Cairn- 
vreckan  sat  down  in  silence  to  their  evening  meal.  While  the 
servants  were  in  attendance,  neither  chose  to  say  anything  on 
the  circumstances  which  occupied  their  minds,  and  neither  felt 
it  easy  to  speak  upon  any  other.  The  youth  and  apparent 
frankness  of  Waverley  stood  in  strong  contrast  to  the  shades 
of  suspicion  which  darkened  around  him,  and  he  had  a  sort  of 
naivete  and  openness  of  demeanor,  that  seemed  to  belong  to 
one  unhackneyed  in  the  ways  of  intrigue,  and  which  pleaded 
highly  in  his  favor. 

Each  mused  over  the  particulars  of  the  examination,  and 
each  viewed  it  through  the  medium  of  his  own  feelings.  Both 
were  men  of  ready  and  acute  talent,  and  both  were  equally  com- 
petent to  combine  various  parts  of  evidence,  and  to  deduce  from 
them  the  necessary  conclusions.  But  the  wide  difference  of 
their  habits  and  education  often  occasioned  a  great  discrcp 
ancy  in  their  respective  deductions  from  admitted  premises. 

Major  Melville  had  been  versed  in  camps  and  cities  ;  he 
was  vigilant  by  profession,  and  cautious  from  experience,  had 
met  with  much  evil  in  the  world,  and  therefore,  though  himself 
an  upright  magistrate  and  an  honorable  man,  his  opinions  o£ 


(06  IVAVERLEY. 

Others  were  always  strict,  and  sometimes  unjustly  severe.  Mf. 
Morton,  on  the  contrar}^,  had  passed  from  the  literary  pursuits 
of  a  college,  where  he  was  beloved  by  his  companions  and  rc' 
spected  by  his  teachers,  to  the  ease  and  simplicity -of  his  present 
charge,  where  his  opportunities  of  witnessing  evil  were  few,  and 
never  dwelt  upon,  but  in  order  to  encourage  repentance  and 
amendment ;  and  where  the  love  and  respect  of  his  parishioners 
repaid  his  affectionate  zeal  in  their  behalf,  by  endeavoring  to 
disguise  from  him  what  they  knew  would  give  him  the  most 
acute  pain,  namely,  their  own  occasional  transgressions  of  the 
duties  which  it  was  the  business  of  his  \\ie.  to  recommend.  Thus 
was  a  common  saying  in  the  neighborhood  (though  both  were  it 
popular  characters),  that  the  laird  knew  only  the  ill  in  the  parish, 
and  the  minister  only  the  good. 

A  love  of  letters,  though  kept  in  subordination  to  his 
clerical  studies  and  duties,  also  distinguished  the  Pastor  of 
Cairnvreckan,  and  had  tinged  his  mind  in  earlier  days  with  a 
slight  feeling  of  romance,  which  no  after  incidents  of  real  life 
had  entirely  dissipated.  The  early  loss  of  an  amiable  young 
woman,  whom  he  had  married  for  love,  and  who  was  quickly 
followed  to  the  grave  by  an  only  child,  had  also  ser\'ed,  even 
after  the  lapse  of  many  years,  to  soften  a  disposition  naturally 
mild  and  contemplative.  His  feelings  on  the  present  occasion 
were  therefore  likely  to  differ  from  those  of  the  severe  dis- 
ciplinarian, strict  magistrate,  and  distrustful  man  of  the  world. 

When  the  servants  had  withdrawn,  the  silence  of  both  par- 
ties continued,  until  Major  Melville,  filling  his  glass,  and  push- 
ing the  bottle  to  Mr.  Morton,  commenced. 

"  A  distressing  affair  this,  Mr.  Morton.  I  fear  this  young- 
ster has  brought  himself  within  the  compass  of  a  halter." 

"  God  forbid  1  "  answered  the  clergyman. 

"  Marry,  and  amen,"  said  the  temporal  magistrate,  "  but 
I  think  even  your  merciful  logic  will  hardly  deny  the  conclu- 
sion." 

"  Surely,  Major,"  answered  the  clerg}^man,  "  I  should  hope 
it  might  be  averted,  for  aught  we  have  heard  to-night  ?  " 

*-  Indeed  !  "  replied  IMelville.  "  But,  my  good  parson,  you 
are  one  of  those  who  would  communicate  to  every  criminal  the 
benefit  of  clergy." 

"  Unquestionably  I  would  :  Mercy  and  long-suffering  are 
the  grounds  of  the  doctrine  I  am  called  to  teach." 

"  True,  religiously  speaking  ;  but  mercy  to  a  criminal  may 
be  gross  injustice  to  the  community.  I  don't  speak  of  this 
young  fellow  in  particular,  who  I  heartily  wish  may  be  able  ttf 


WAVERLE^. 


207 


plear  himself,  for  I  like  both  his  modesty  and  his  spirit.     But  I 
fear  he  has  rushed  upon  his  fate." 

"And  why?  Hundreds  of  misguided  gentlemen  are  now  in 
arms  against  the  government,  many,  doubtless,  upon  principles 
which  education  and  early  prejudice  have  gilded  with  tlie 
names  of  patriotism  and  heroism ; — Justice,  when  she  selects 
her  victims  from  such  a  multitude  (for  surely  all  will  not  be 
destroyed),  must  regard  the  moral  motive.  He  whom  ambition, 
or  hope  of  personal  advantage,  has  led  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
a  well-ordered  government,  let  him  fall  a  victim  to  the  laws  ; 
but  surely  youth,  misled  by  the  wild  visions  of  chivalry  and 
imaginary  loyalty,  may  plead  for  pardon." 

"  If  visionary  chivalry  and  imaginary  loyalty  come  within 
the  predicament  of  high-treason,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  I 
know  no  court  in  Christendom,  my  dear  Mr.  Morton,  where 
they  can  sue  out  their  Habeas  Corpus." 

*'  But  I  cannot  see  that  this  youth's  guilt  is  at  all  established 
to  my  satisfaction,"  said  the  clergyman. 

"Because  your  good  nature  blinds  your  good  sense," 
replied  Major  Melville.  "  Observe  now  :  This  young  man, 
descended  of  a  family  of  hereditary  Jacobites,  his  uncle  the 

i'eader  of  the  tory  interest  in  the  county  of ,  his  father  a 

disobliged  and  discontented  courtier,  his  tutor  a  non  juror,  and 
the  author  of  two  treasonable  volumes — this  youth,  I  say,  enters 
into  Gardiner's  dragoons,  bringing  with  him  a  body  of  young 
fellows  from  his  uncle's  estate,  who  have  not  stickled  at  avow 
ing,  in  their  way,  the  high-church  principles  they  learned  al 
Waverley-Honour,  in  their  disputes  with  their  comrades.  T& 
these  young  men  Waverley  is  unusually  attentive ;  they  are 
supplied  with  money  beyond  a  soldier's  wants,  and  inconsistent 
with  his  discipline  ;  and  are  under  the  management  of  a  favorite 
sergeant,  through  whom  they  hold  an  unusually  close  communi- 
cation with  their  captain,  and  affect  to  consider  themselves  as 
independent  of  the  other  ofificers,  and  superior  to  their  com 
rades." 

"  All  this,  my  dear  Major,  is  the  natural  consequence  of 
their  attachment  to  their  young  landlord,  and  of  their  finding 
themselves  in  a  regiment  levied  chiefly  in  the  north  of  Ireland 
and  the  west  of  Scotland,  and  of  course  among  comrades  dis- 
posed to  quarrel  with  them,  both  as  Englishmen,  and  as  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England." 

"Well  said,  parson!"  replied  the  magistrate. — "I  would 
some  of  your  synod  heard  you. — But  let  me  go  on.  This  young 
Han  obtains  leave  of  absence,  goes  to  Tully-Veolan — the  prin- 


2o8  IVAVERLEY. 

ciples  of  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  are  pretty  well  known,  not 
to  mention  that  this  lad's  uncle  brought  him  off  in  the  year 
fifteen  ;  he  engages  there  in  a  brawl,  in  which  he  is  said  to  have 
disgraced  the  commission  he  bore  ;  Colonel  Gardiner  writes 
to  him,  first  mildly,  then  more  sharply — I  think  you  w'ill  not 
doubt  his  having  done  so,  since  he  says  so  ;  the  mess  invite 
him  to  explain  the  quarrel,  in  which  he  is  said  to  have  been  in 
volved  ;  he  neither  replies  to  his  commander  nor  his  comrades 
In  the  mean  while  his  soldiers  become  mutinous  and  disorderly, 
and  at  length,  when  the  rumor  of  this  unhajDpy  rebellion  be- 
comes general,  his  favorite  Sergeant  Houghton,  and  another 
fellow,  are  detected  in  correspondence  with  a  French  emissary, 
accredited,  as  he  says,  by  Captain  Waverley,  who  urges  him, 
according  to  the  men's  confession,  to  desert  with  the  troop  and 
join  their  Captain,  who  was  with  Prince  Charles.  In  the  mean 
while,  this  trusty  captain  is,  by  his  own  admission,  residing  at 
Glennaquoich  with  the  most  active,  subtle,  and  desperate 
Jacobite  in  Scotland ;  he  goes  with  him  at  least  as  far  as  their 
famous  hunting  rendezvous,  and  I  fear  a  little  farther.  Mean- 
while two  other  summonses  are  sent  him  ;  one  warning  him  of 
the  disturbances  in  his  troop,  another  peremptorily  ordering 
him  to  repair  to  the  regiment,  which  indeed  common  sense 
might  have  dictated,  when  he  observed  rebellion  thickening  all 
around  him.  He  returns  an  absolute  refusal,  and  throws  up 
his  commission." 

"  He  had  been  already  deprived  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Morton. 

"  But  he  regrets,"  replied  Melville,  "  that  the  measure  had 
anticipated  his  resignation.  His  baggage  is  seized  at  his  quar- 
ters, and  at  Tully-Veolan,  and  is  found  to  contain  a  stock  of 
pestilent  Jacobitical  pamphlets,  enough  to  poison  a  whole  coun- 
try, besides  the  unprinted  lucubrations  of  his  worthy  friend  and 
tutor  Mr.  Pembroke." 

"  He  says  he  never  read  them,"  answered  the  minister. 

"  In  an  ordinary  case  I  should  believe  him,"  replied  the 
magistrate,  "for  they  are  as  stupid  and  pedantic  in  composi- 
tion as  mischievous  in  their  tenets.  But  can  you  suppose  any- 
thing but  value  for  the  principles  they  maintain,  would  induce 
a  young  man  of  his  age  to  lug  such  trash  about  with  bim  ? 
Then,  when  news  arrive  of  the  approach  of  the  rebels,  he  sets 
out  in  a  sort  of  disguise,  refusing  to  tell  his  name  ;  and,  if  yon 
old  fanatic  tell  truth,  attended  by  a  very  suspicious  character^ 
and  mounted  on  a  horse  known  to  have  belonged  to  Glenna* 
quoich,  and  bearing  on  his  person  letters  from  his  family,  ex- 
pressing high  rancor  agaixist  the  House  of  Brunswick,  and  » 


WAVE  RLE  V.  20$ 

copy  of  versus  in  praise  of  one  Wogan,  who  abjured  the  service 
of  the  Parhament  to  join  the  Highland  insurgents,  when  in 
arms  to  restore  the  house  of  Stuart,  with  a  body  of  English 
cavalry — the  very  counterpart  of  his  own  plot — and  summed 
up  with  a  Go  thou  and  do  likewise,  from  that  loyal  subject,  and 
most  safe  and  peaceable  character,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  of  Glen- 
naquoich,  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  and  so  forth.  And  lastly,"  continued 
Major  Melville,  warming  in  the  detail  of  his  arguments,  "  where 
do  we  find  this  second  edition  of  Cavalier  Wogan  ?  Why,  truly, 
in  the  very  track  most  proper  for  execution  of  his  design,  and 
pistolling  the  first  of  the  king's  subjects  who  ventures  to  ques- 
tion his  intentions." 

Mr.  Morton  prudently  abstained  from  argument,  which  he 
perceived  would  only  harden  the  magistrate  in  his  opinion,  and 
merely  asked  how  he  intended  to  dispose  of  the  prisoner  ^ 

"  It  is  a  question  of  some  difficulty,  considering  the  state  of 
the  country,"  said  Major  Melville. 

"  Could  you  not  detain  him  (being  such  a  gentleman-like 
young  man)  here  in  your  own  house,  out  of  harm's  way,  till  this 
storm  blow  over  ?  " 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Major  Melville,  "  neither  your 
house  nor  mine  will  be  long  out  of  harm's  way,  even  were  it 
legal  to  confine  him  here.  I  have  just  learned  that  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, who  marched  into  the  Highlands  to  seek  out 
and  disperse  the  insurgents,  has  declined  giving  them  battle  at 
Corryerick,  and  marched  on  northward  with  all  the  disposable 
force  of  government,  to  Inverness,  John-o'-Groat's  House,  or 
the  Devil,  for  what  I  know,  leaving  the  road  to  the  Low  Coun- 
try open  and  undefended  to  the  Highland  army." 

"  Good  God  !  "  said  the  clergyman.  "  Is  the  man  a  coward, 
a  traitor,  or  an  idiot  ?  " 

"  None  of  the  three,  I  believe,"  answered  Melville.  "  Sir 
John  has  the  commonplace  courage  of  a  common  soldier,  is 
honest  enough,  does  what  he  is  commanded,  and  understands 
what  is  told  him,  but  is  as  fit  to  act  for  himself  in  circumstances 
of  importance,  as  I,  my  dear  parson,  to  occupy  your  pulpit." 

This  important  public  intelligence  naturally  diverted  the 
discourse  from  Waverley  for  some  time  ;  at  length,  however, 
the  subject  was  resumed. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Major  Melville,  "  that  I  must  give  this 
young  man  in  charge  to  some  of  the  detached  parties  of  armed 
volunteers,  who  were  lately  sent  out  to  overawe  the  disaffected 
districts.  They  are  now  recalled  towards  Stirling,  and  a  small 
body  comes  this  way  to-morrow  or  next  day,  commanded  by  the 


2IO  tVAVERLEY. 

westland  man — what's  his  name  ? — You  saw  him,  and  said  he 
was  the  very  model  of  one  of  Cromwell's  military  saints." 

"  Gilfillan,  the  Cameronian,"  answered  Mr.  Morton.  "  I 
wish  the  young  gentleman  may  be  safe  with  him.  Strange 
things  are  done  in  the  heat  and  hurry  of  minds  in  so  agitating 
a  crisis,  and  I  fear  Gilfillan  is  of  a  sect  which  has  suffered  perse- 
cution without  learning  mercy." 

"  He  has  only  to  lodge  Mr.  Waverley  in  Stirling  Castle," 
said  the  Major :  "  I  will  give  strict  injunctions  to  treat  him  well. 
I  really  cannot  devise  any  better  mode  for  securing  him,  and  I 
fancy  you  would  hardly  advise  me  to  encounter  the  responsi- 
bility of  setting  him  at  liberty." 

"  But  you  will  have  no  objection  to  my  seeing  him  to-morrow 
in  private  .''  "  said  the  minister. 

"  None,  certainly ;  your  loyalty  and  character  are  my  war- 
rant.    But  with  what  view  do  you  make  the  request  ?  " 

"  Simply,"  replied  Mr.  Morton,  "  to  make  the  experiment 
whether  he  may  not  be  brought  to  communicate  to  me  some 
circumstances  which  may  hereafter  be  useful  to  alleviate,  if  not 
to  exculpate  his  conduct." 

The  friends  now  parted  and  retired  to  rest,  each  filled  with 
the  most  anxious  reflections  on  the  state  of  the  country. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-THIRD. 

A   CONFIDANT. 

Waverley  awoke  in  the  morning,  from  troubled  dreams 
andunrefreshing  slumbers,  to  a  full  consciousness  of  the  horrors 
of  his  situation.     How  it  might   terminate  he  knew  not.     H 
might  be  delivered  up  to  military  law,  which,  in  the  midst 
civil  war,  was  not  likely  to  be  scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  it 
victims,  or  the  quality  of  the  evidence.     Nor  did  he  feel  much 
more  comfortable  at  the  thoughts   of  a  trial  before  a  Scottish 
court  of  justice,  where  he  knew  the  laws  and  forms  differed  in 
many  respects  from  those  of  England,  and  had  been  taught  to 
believe,  however  erroneously,  that  the  liberty  and  rights  of  the 
subject  were  less  carefully  protected.     A  sentiment  of  bitter 
ness  rose  in  his  mind  against   the  government,  which  he  con 
sidered  as  the  cause  of  his  embarrassment  a.nd  peril,  and  he 


WAVER  LEY.  21 1 

cursed  internally  his  scrupulous  rejection  ^f  Mac-Ivor's  invita- 
tion to  accompany  him  to  the  field. 

"  Why  did  not  I,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  like  other  men  of 
honor,  take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  welcome  to  Britain  the 
descendant  of  her  ancient  kings,  and  lineal  heir  of  her  throne  f 
Why  did  not  I 

Unthread  the  rude  eye  of  rebellion, 

And  Welcome  home  again  discarded  faitTi, 

Seek  out  Prince  Charles,  and  fall  before  his  feet? 

All  that  has  been  recorded  of  excellence  and  worth  in  the 
house  of  Waverley,  has  been  founded  upon  their  loyal  faith  to 
the  house  of  Stuart.  From  the  interpretation  which  this  Scotch 
magistrate  has  put  upon  the  letters  of  my  uncle  and  father,  it 
is  plain  that  I  ought  to  have  understood  them  as  marshalling 
me  to  the  course  of  my  ancestors ;  and  it  has  been  my  gross 
dulness,joined  to  the  obscurity  of  expression  which  they  adopted 
for  the  sake  of  security,  that  has  confounded  my  judgment. 
Had  I  yielded  lo  the  first  generous  impulse  of  indignation, 
when  I  learned  that  my  honor  was  practiced  upon,  how  different 
had  been  my  present  situation  !  I  had  then  been  free  and 
in  arms,  fighting,  like  my  forefathers,  for  love,  for  loyalty, 
and  for  fame.  And  now  I  am  here,  netted  •and  in  the  toils,  at 
the  disposal  of  a  suspicious,  stern,  and  cold-hearted  man,  per- 
haps to  be  turned  over  to  the  solitude  of  a  dungeon,  or  the  in- 
famy of  a  public  execution.  O,  Fergus  !  how  true  has  your 
prophecy  proved  ;  and  how  speedy,  how  very  speedy,  has  been 
its  accomplishment ! " 

While  Edward  was  ruminating  on  these  painful  subjects  of 
contemplation,  and  very  naturally,  though  not  quite  so  justl}', 
bestowing  upon  the  reigning  dynasty  that  blame  which  was  due 
to  chance,  or,  in  part  at  least,  to  his  own  unreflecting  conduct, 
Mr,  Morton  availed  himself  of  Major  Melville's  permission  to 
pay  him  an  early  visit. 

Waverley's  first  impulse  was  to  intimate  a  desire  that  he 
might  n£)t  be  disturbed  with  questions  or  conversation,  but  he 
suppressed  it  upon  observing  the  benevolent  and  reverend  ap 
pearance  of  the  clergyman  who  had  rescued  him  from  the  im- 
mediate violence  of  the  villagers. 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  the  unfortunate  young  man,  "that  in 
any  otiier  circumstances  I  should  have  had  as  mucli  gratitude 
to  express  to  you  as  the  safety  of  my  life  may  be  worth  ;  but 
such  is  the  present  tumult  of  my  mind,  and  such  is  my  antici- 
pation of  what  1  am  yet  likely  to  endure,  that  I  can  hardly 
offer  you  thanks  for  your  interpositioiL" 


212  IVAVERLEY. 

Mr.  Morton  replied.  "  that,  far  from  making  any  claftrt  trpwH 
his  good  opinion,  his  only  wish  and  the  sole  purpose  of  his 
visit  was  to  find  out  the  means  of  deserving  it.  My  excellent 
friend.  Major  Melville,"  he  continued,  "  has  feelings  and  dutie^i 
as  a  soldier  and  public  functionary,  by  which  I  am  not  fettered  ; 
nor  can  I  always  coincide  in  opinions  which  he  forms,  perhaps 
with  too  little  allowance  for  the  imperfections  of  human  nature." 
He  paused,  and  then  proceeded  :  "  I  do  not  intrude  myself  on 
your  confidence,  Mr.  Waverley,  for  the  purpose  of  learning  any 
circumstances,  the  knowledge  of  which  can  be  prejudicial  either 
to  yourself  or  to  others  ;  but  I  own  my  earnest  wish  is,  that 
you  would  intrust  me  with  any  particulars  which  could  lead  to 
your  exculpation.  I  can  solemnly  assure  you  they  will  be  de- 
posited with  a  faithful,  and,  to  the  extent  of  his  limited  powers, 
a  zealous  agent." 

"  You  are,  sir,  I  presume,  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  ?  " — ■ 
Mr.  Morton  bowed. — "  Were  I  to  be  guided  by  the  preposses- 
sions of  education,  I  might  distrust  your  friendly  professions  in 
my  case  ;  but  I  have  observed  that  similar  prejudices  are  nour- 
ished in  this  country  against  your  professional  brethren  of  the 
Episcopal  persuasion,  and  I  am  willing  to  believe  them  equally 
unfounded  in  both  cases." 

"  Evil  to  him  that  thinks  otherwise,"  said  Mr.  Morton ;  "  or 
who  holds  church  government  and  ceremonies  as  the  exclusive 
gauge  of  Christian  faith  or  moral  virtue." 

"  But,"  continued  Waverley,  "  I  cannot  perceive  why  I 
should  trouble  you  with  a  detail  of  particulars,  out  of  which, 
after  revolving  them  as  carefully  as  possible  in  my  recollection, 
I  find  myself  unable  to  explain  much  of  what  is  charged  against 
me.  I  know,  indeed,  that  I  am  innocent,  but  I  hardly  see  how 
I  can  hope  to  prove  myself  so." 

"It  is  for  that  very  reason,  Mr.  Waverley,*'  said  the  clergy- 
man, "  that  I  venture  to  solicit  your  confidence.  My  knowledge 
of  individuals  in  this  country  is  pretty  general,  and  can  upon  oc- 
casion be  extended.  Your  situation  will,  I  fear,  preclude  your 
taking  those  active  steps  for  recovering  intelligence,  or  tracing 
hnposture,  which  I  would  willingly  undertake  in  your  behalf ; 
and  if  you  are  not  benefited  by  my  exertions,  at  least  they 
cannot  be  prejudicial  to  you." 

Waverley,  after  a  few  minutes'  reflection,  was  convinced 
that  his  reposing  confidence  in  Mr.  Morton,  so  far  as  he  him* 
self  was  concerned,  could  hurt  neither  Mr.  Bradwardine  nor 
Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  both  of  whom  had  openly  assumed  arms 
against  the  government,  and  that  it  might  possibly,  if  th«  pro 


WAVERLEY. 


2T3 


fessions  of  his  new  friend  corresponded  in  sincerity  with  the 
earnestness  of  his  expression,  be  of  some  service  to  himself. 
He  therefore  ran  briefly  over  most  of  the  events  with  which 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted,  suppressing  his  attachment  to 
Flora,  and  indeed  neither  mentioning  her  nor  Rose  Bradwar- 
dine  in  the  course  of  his  narrative. 

Mr.  Morton  seemed  particularly  struck  with  the  account  oi 
Waverley's  visit  to  Donald  Bean  Lean.  "  I  am  glad,"  he  said, 
*' you  did  not  mention  this  circumstance  to  the  Major.  It  is 
capable  of  great  misconstruction  on  the  part  of  those  who  do 
not  consider  the  power  of  curiosity  and  the  influence  of  ro- 
mance as  motives  of  youthful  conduct.  When  I  was  a  young 
man  like  you,  Mr.  Waverley,  any  such  hair-brained  expedition 
(I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  expression)  would  have  had  inex- 
pressible charms  for  me.  But  there  are  men  in  the  world  who 
will  not  believe  that  danger  and  fatigue  are  often  incurred  with- 
out any  very  adequate  cause,  and  therefore  who  are  sometimes 
led  to  assign  motives  of  action  entirely  foreign  to  the  truth. 
This  man  Bean  Lean  is  renowned  through  the  country  as  a 
sort  of  Robin  Hood,  and  the  stories  which  are  told  of  his  ad- 
dress and  enterprise  are  the  common  tales  of  the  winter  fire- 
side. He  certainly  possesses  talents  beyond  the  rude  sphere 
in  which  he  moves  ;  and,  being  neither  destitute  of  ambition 
nor  encumbered  with  scruples,  he  will  probably  attempt,  by 
every  means,  to  distinguish  himself  during  the  period  of  these 
unhappy  commotions."  Mr.  Morton  then  made  a  careful 
memorandum  of  the  various  particulars  of  Waverley's  inter- 
view with  Donald  Bean,  and  the  other  circumstances  which  he 
had  communicated. 

The  interest  which  this  gcod  man  seemed  to  take  in  his 
misfortunes,  above  all,  the  full  confidence  he  appeared  to  re- 
pose in  his  innocence,  had  the  natural  effect  of  softening  Ed- 
ward's heart,  whom  the  coldness  of  Major  Melville  had  taught 
to  believe  that  the  world  was  leagued  to  oppress  him.  He 
shook  Mr.  Morton  warmly  by  the  hand,  and,  assuring  him  that 
his  kindness  and  sympathy  had  relieved  his  mind  of  a  heavy 
load,  told  him,  that  whatever  might  be  his  own  fate,  he  be- 
longed to  a  family  who  had  both  gratitude  and  the  power  of 
displaying  it.  The  earnestness  of  his  thanks  called  drops  to 
the  eyes  of  the  worthy  clergyman,  who  was  doubly  interested 
in  the  cause  for  which  he  had  volunteered  his  services,  by  ob- 
serving the  genuine  and  undissembled  feelings  of  his  young 
friend. 

Edward  now  inquired  if  Mr.  Morton  knew  what  was  likely 
to  be  his  destination. 


>I4 


WAVER  LEY. 


"  Stirling  Castle,"  replied  his  friend  ;  **  and  so  far  I  am  weU 
pleased  for  your  sake,  for  the  governor  is  a  man  of  honor  and 
humanity.  But  I  am  more  doubtful  of  your  treatment  upon  the 
road  ;  Major  Melville  is  involuntarily  obliged  to  intrust  the 
custody  of  your  person  to  another." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  answered  Waverley.  "  I  detest  that 
cold-blooded  calculating  Scotch  magistrate.  I  hope  he  and  I 
shall  never  meet  more  :  he  had  neither  sympathy  with  my  in- 
nocence nor  my  wretchedness ;  and  the  petrifying  accu- 
racy with  which  he  attended  to  every  form  of  civility,  while  he 
tortured  me  by  his  questions,  his  suspicions,  and  his  inferences, 
was  as  tormenting  as  the  racks  of  the  Inquisition.  Do  not 
vindicate  him,  my  dear  sir,  for  that  I  cannot  bear  with  patience  ; 
tell  me  rather  who  is  to  have  the  charge  of  so  important  a  state 
prisoner  as  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  believe  a  person  called  Gilfillan,  one  of  the  sect  who  are 
termed  Cameronians." 

"  I  never  heard  of  them  before." 

"They  claim,"  said  the  clergyman,  "to  represent  the  more 
strict  and  severe  Presbyterians,  who,  in  Charles  Second's  and 
James  Second's  days,  refused  to  profit  by  the  Toleration,  or 
Indulgence,  as  it  was  called,  which  was  extended  to  others  of 
that  religion.  They  held  conventicles  in  the  open  fields,  and 
being  treated  with  great  violence  and  cruelty  by  the  Scottish 
government,  more  than  once  took  arms  during  those  reigns. 
They  take  their  name  from  their  leader,  Richard  Cameron." 

"  I  recollect,"  said  Waverley  ; — "  but  did  not  the  triumph 
of  presbytery  at  the  Revolution  extinguish  that  sect  .-•  " 

"By  no  means,"  replied  Mr,  Morton;  "that  great  event 
fell  yet  far  short  of  what  they  proposed,  which  was  nothing  less 
than  the  complete  establishment  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
upon  the  grounds  of  the  old  Solemn  League  and  Covenant. 
Indeed,  I  believe  they  scarce  knew  what  they  wanted  ;  but 
being  a  numerous  body  of  men,  and  not  unacquainted  with  the 
Use  of  arms,  they  kept  themselves  together  as  a  separate  party 
in  the  state,  and  at  the  time  of  the  Union  had  nearly  formed  a 
most  unnatural  league  with  their  old  enemies,  the  Jacobites,  to 
oppose  that  important  national  measure.  Since  that  time  their 
numbers  have  gradually  diminished  ;  but  a  good  many  are  still 
to  be  found  in  the  western  counties,  and  several,  with  a  better 
temper  than  in  1707,  have  now  taken  arms  for  government. 
This  person,  whom  they  call  Gifted  Gilfillan,  has  been  long  a 
leader  among  them,  and  now  heads  a  small  party,  which  wiU 
pass  here  to-day,  or  to-morrow,  on  their  march  toward  Stirling 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


215 


Under  whose  escort  Major  Melville  proposes  you  shall  travel. 
I  would  willingly  speak  to  Gilfillan  in  your  behalf  ;  but  having 
deeply  imbibed  all  the  prejudices  of  his  sect,  and  being  of  the 
same  fierce  disposition,  he  would  pay  little  regard  to  the  remon- 
strances of  an  Erastian  divine,  as  he  would  politely  term  me. — 
And  now,  farewell,  my  young  friend ;  for  the  present,  I  must 
not  weary  out  the  Major's  indulgence,  that  I  may  obtain  his 
permission  to  visit  you  again  in  the  course  of  the  day." 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FOUR. 

THINGS     MEND    A    LITTLE. 

About  noon,  Mr.  Morton  returned  and  brought  an  invitation 
from  Major  Melville  that  Mr.  Waverley  would  honor  him  with  his 
company  to  dinner,  notwithstanding  the  unpleasant  affair  which 
detained  him  at  Cairnvreckan,  from  which  he  should  heartily 
rejoice  to  see  Mr.  Waverley  completely  extricated.  The  truth 
was,  that  Mr.  Morton's  favorable  report  and  opinion  had  some- 
what staggered  the  preconceptions  of  the  old  soldier  concernivig 
Edward's  supposed  accession  to  the  mutiny  in  the  regiment ; 
and  in  the  unfortunate  state  of  the  country,  the  mere  suspicion 
of  disaffection,  or  an  inclination  to  join  the  insurgent  Jacobites, 
might  infer  criminality  indeed,  but  certainly  not  dishonor.  Be- 
sides, a  person  whom  the  Major  trusted  had  reported  to  him 
(though,  as  it  proved,  inaccurately),  a  contradiction  of  the 
agitating  news  of  the  preceding  evening.  According  to  this 
second  edition  of  the  intelligence,  the  Highlanders  had  with- 
drawn from  the  Lowland  frontier  with  the  purpose  of  following 
the  army  in  their  march  to  Inverness.  The  Major  was  at  a 
loss,  indeed,  to  reconcile  his  information  with  the  well-known 
abilities  of  some  of  the  gentlemen  in  the  Highland  army,  yet 
it  was  the  course  which  was  likely  to  be  most  agreeable  to 
others.  He  remembered  the  same  policy  had  detained  them 
in  the  north  in  the  year  17 15,  and  he  anticipated  a  similar  ter- 
mination to  the  insurrection  as  upon  that  occasion.  This  news 
put  him  in  such  good-humor,  that  he  readily  acquiesced  in  Mr. 
Morton's  proposal  to  pay  some  hospitable  attention  to  his  un- 
fortunate guest,  and  voluntarily  added,  he  hoped  the  whole 
fcffair  would  prove  a  youthful  escapade,  which  might  be  easily 


jl6  WAVER  LEY. 

atoned  by  a  short  confinement.  The  kind  mediator  had  some 
trouble  to  prevail  on  his  young  friend  to  accept  the  invitation. 
He  dared  not  urge  to  him  the  real  motive,  which  was  a  good- 
natured  wish  to  secure  a  favorable  report  of  Waverley's  case 
from  Major  Melville  to  Governor  Blakeney.  He  remarked, 
from  the  flashes  of  our  hero's  spirit,  that  touching  upon  this 
topic  would  be  sure  to  defeat  his  purpose.  He  therefore 
pleaded,  that  the  invitation  argued  the  Major's  disbelief  of  any 
part  of  the  accusation  which  was  inconsistent  with  Waverley's 
conduct  as  a  soldier  and  man  of  honor,  and  that  to  decline  his 
courtesy  might  be  interpreted  into  a  consciousness  that  it  was 
unmerited.  In  short,  he  so  far  satisfied  Edward  that  the  manly 
and  proper  course  was  to  meet  the  Major  on  easy  terms,  that, 
suppressing  his  strong  dislike  again  to  encounter  his  cold  and 
punctilious  civility,  Waverley  agreed  to  be  guided  by  his  new 
friend. 

The  meeting,  at  first,  was  stiff  and  formal  enough.  But 
Edward  having  accepted  the  invitation,  and  his  mind  being 
really  soothed  and  relieved  by  the  kindness  of  Morton,  held 
himself  bound  to  behave  with  ease,  though  he  could  not  affect 
cordiality.  The  Major  was  somewhat  of  a  bon  vivant,  and  his 
wine  was  excellent.  He  told  his  old  campaign  stories,  and 
displayed  much  knowledge  of  men  and  manners.  Mr.  Morton 
had  an  internal  fund  of  placid  and  quiet  gayety,  which  seldom 
failed  to  enliven  any  small  party  in  which  he  found  himsell 
pleasantly  seated.  Waverley,  whose  life  was  a  dream,  gav« 
ready  way  to  the  predominating  impulse,  and  became  ihc  most 
lively  of  the  party.  He  had  at  all  times  remarkable  natural 
powers  of  conversation,  though  easily  silenced  by  discourage- 
ment.  On  the  present  occasion,  he  piqued  himself  upon  leav- 
ing on  the  minds  of  his  companions  a  favorable  impression  of 
one  who,  under  such  disastrous  circumstances,  could  sustain 
his  misfortunes  with  ease  and  gayety.  His  spirits,  though  not 
unyielding,  were  abundantly  elastic,  and  soon  seconded  his 
efforts.  The  trio  were  engaged  in  very  lively  discourse,  ap- 
parently delighted  with  each  other,  and  the  kind  host  was 
pressing  a  third  bottle  of  Burgundy,  when  the  sound  of  a  drum 
was  heard  at  some  distance.  The  Major,  who,  in  the  glee  of 
an  old  soldier,  had  forgot  the  duties  of  a  magistrate,  cursed, 
with  a  muttered  militar}-  oath,  the  circumstances  which  recalled 
him  to  his  official  functions.  He  rose  and  went  towards  the 
window,  which  commanded  a  very  near  view  of  the  high-road, 
And  he  was  followed  by  his  guests. 

The  drum  advanced,  beating  no  measured  martial  tune, 


tymrERlBV. 


317 


but  a  kind  of  rub-c-dub-dub,  like  that  witli  wliich  the  fire« 
drum  startles  the  slumbering  artisans  of  a  Scotch  burgh. 
It  is  the  object  of  this  his'ory  to  do  justice  to  all  men  ;  I 
must  therefore  record,  in  justice  to  the  drummer,  that  he 
protested  he  could  beat  any  known  march  or  point  of  war 
known  in  the  British  army,  and  had  accordingly  commenced 
with  "  Dumbarton's  Drums,"  when  he  was  silenced  by  Gifted 
Gilfillan,  the  commander  of  the  party,  who  refused  to  permit 
his  followers  to  move  to  this  profane,  and  even,  as  he  said, 
persecutive  tune,  and  commanded  the  drummer  to  beat  the 
119th  Psalm.  As  this  was  beyond  the  capacity  of  the  drubber 
of  sheep-skin,  he  was  fain  to  have  recourse  to  the  inoffensive 
row-dow-dow,  as  a  harmless  substitute  for  the  sacred  music 
which  his  instrument  or  skill  were  unable  to  achieve.  This 
may  be  held  a  trifling  anecdote,  but  the  drummer  in  question 
was  no  less  than  town-drummer  of  Anderton.  I  remember  his 
successor  in  office  a  member  of  that  enlightened  body,  the  Brit- 
ish Convention :  Be  his  memory,  therefore-  treated  with  due 
respect 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIFTH. 

AVOUNTEER    SIXTY     YEARS    SINCE.  ' 

On  hearing  the  unwelcome  sound  of  the  drum.  Major 
Melville  hastily  opened  a  sashed  door,  and  stepped  out  upon 
a  sort  of  terrace  which  divided  his  house  from  the  high-road 
from  which  the  martial  music  proceeded.  Waverley  and  his 
new  friend  followed  him,  though  probably  he  would  have 
dispensed  with  their  attendance.  They  soon  recognized  in 
solemn  march,  first,  the  performer  upon  the  drum  ;  secondly, 
a  large  flag  of  four  compartments,  on  which  were  inscribed  the 
words.  Covenant,  Kirk,  King,  Kingdoms.  The  person  who 
was  honored  with  this  charge  was  followed  by  the  commander 
of  the  party,  a  thin,  dark,  rigid-looking  man,  about  sixty  years 
old.  The  spiritual  pride,  which,  in  mine  host  of  the  Candle- 
stick, mantled  in  a  sort  of  supercilious  hypocrisy,  was,  in  this 
man's  face,  elevated  and  yet  darkened  by  genuine  and  un- 
doubting  fanaticism.  It  was  impossible  to  behold  him  without 
imagination  placing  him  in  some  strange  crisis,  where  religious 
zeal  was  the  ruling  principle.  A  martyr  at  the  stake,  a  soldier 
in  the  field,  a  lonely  and  banished  wanderer  consoled  by  the 


ilS  WAVERLEY. 

intensity  and  supposed  purity  of  his  faith  und©  every  earthly 
privation  ;  perhaps  a  persecuting  inquisitor,  as  l«rrific  in  powei 
as  unyielding  in  adversity  ;  any  of  these  seemed  ce-  e,enial 
characters  to  this  personage.  With  these  high  traits  </  ,  .»ergy, 
there  was  something  in  the  aiTected  precision  and  solfe..inity  of 
his  deportment  and  discourse,  that  bordered  upon  the  ludicrous; 
so  that,  according  to  the  mood  of  the  spectator's  mind,  and 
the  light  under  which  Mr.  Gilfillan  presented  himself,  one 
might  have  feared,  admired,  or  laughed  at  him.  His  dress  was 
that  of  a  west-country  peasant,  of  better  materials  indeed  than 
that  of  the  lower  rank,  but  in  no  respect  affecting  either  the 
mode  of  the  age,  or  of  the  Scottish  gentry  at  any  period.  His 
arms  were  a  broadsword  and  pistols,  which,  from  the  antiquity 
of  their  appearance,  might  have  seen  the  rout  of  Pentland,  or 
Bothwell  Brigg. 

As  he  came  up  a  few  steps  to  meet  Major  Melville  and 
touched  solemnly,  but  slightly,  his  huge  and  over-brimmed  blue 
bonnet,  in  answer  to  the  Major,  who  had  courteously  raised  a 
small  triangular  gold-laced  hat,  Waverley  was  irresistibly  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  he  beheld  the  leader  of  the  Round- 
heads of  yore,  in  conference  with  one  of  Marlborough's  cap- 
tains. The  group  of  about  thirty  armed  men  who  followed 
this  gifted  commander,  was  of  a  motley  description.  They 
were  in  ordinary  lowland  dresses,  of  different  colors,  which, 
contrasted  with  the  arms  they  bore,  gave  them  an  irregular 
and  mobbish  appearance,  so  much  is  the  eye  accustomed  to 
connect  uniformity  of  dress  with  the  military  character.  In 
front  were  a  few  who  apparently  partook  of  their  leader's 
enthusiasm  ;  men  obviously  to  be  feared  in  a  combat  where 
their  natural  courage  was  exalted  by  religious  zeal.  Others 
puffed  and  strutted,  filled  with  the  importance  of  carrying  arms 
and  all  the  novelty  of  their  situation,  while  the  rest,  apparently 
fatigued  with  their  march,  dragged  their  limbs  listlessly  along, 
or  straggled  from  their  companions  to  procure  such  refreshments 
as  the  neighboring  cottages  and  alehouses  afforded.  "  Six 
grenadiers  of  Ligonier's,"  thought  the  major  to  himself,  as  his 
mind  reverted  to  his  own  military  experience,  *'  would  have 
sent  all  these  fellows  to  the  right  about." 

Greeting,  however,  Mr.  Gilfillan  civilly,  he  requested  to 
know  if  he  had  received  the  letter  he  had  sent  to  him  upon  hi^ 
march,  and  could  undertake  the  charge  of  the  state  prisoner 
whom  he  there  mentioned,  as  far  as  Stirling  Castle.  "  Yea," 
was  the  concise  reply  of  the  Cameronian  leader,  in  a  voice 
which  seemed  to  issue  from  the  \^x^  penetralia  of  his  person. 


WAVERLEY. 


319 


'*  But  your  escort,  Mr.  Gilfillan,  is  not  so  strong  as  I  ex- 
pected," said  Major  Melville. 

"  Some  of  the  people,"  replied  Gilfillan,  "  hungered  and 
were  athirst  by  the  way,  and  tarried  until  their  poor  souls  were 
refreshed  with  the  word." 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  replied  the  Major,  "you  did  not  trust  to 
your  refreshing  your  men  at  Cairnvreckan  ;  whatever  my  house 
contains  is  at  the  command  of  persons  employed  in  the  ser 
vice." 

"  It  was  not  of  creature-comforts  I  spake,"  answered  the 
Covenanter,  regarding  Major  Melville  with  something  like  a 
smile  of  contempt ;  "  howbeit,  I  thank  you  ;  but  the  people 
remained  waiting  upon  the  precious  Mr,  Jabesh  Rentowel,  for 
the  outpouring  of  the  afternoon  exhortation. 

"  And  have  you,  sir,"  said  the  Major,  "  when  the  rebels 
are  about  to  spread  themselves  through  this  country,  actually 
left  a  great  part  of  your  command  at  a  field  preaching  ?  " 

Gilfillan  again  smiled  scornfully  as  he  made  this  indirect 
answer, — "  Even  thus  are  the  children  of  this  world  wiser  in 
their  generation  than  the  children  of  light !  " 

"  However,  sir,"  said  the  Major,  as  you  are  to  take  charge 
of  this  gentleman  to  Stirling,  and  deliver  him,  with  these 
papers,  into  the  hands  of  Governor  Blakeney,  I  beseech  you 
to  observe  some  rules  of  military  discipline  upon  your  march. 
For  example,  I  would  advise  you  to  keep  your  men  more 
closely  together,  and  that  each,  in  his  march,  should  cover  his 
file-leader,  instead  of  staggering  like  geese  upon  a  common  ; 
and  for  fear  of  surprise,  I  further  recommend  to  you  to  form  a 
small  advance  party  of  your  best  men,  with  a  single  vidette  in 
front  of  the  whole  march,  so  that  when  you  approach  a  village 
or  a  wood  "  — (Here  the  Major  interrupted  himself) — "  But  as 
7.  don't  observe  you  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Gilfillan,  I  suppose  I 
need  not  give  myself  the  trouble  to  say  more  upon  the  subject. 
Vou  are  a  better  judge,  unquestionably,  than  I  am  of  the 
measures  to  be  pursued  ;  but  one  thing  I  would  have  you  well 
av\'areof,  that  you  are  to  treat  this  gentleman,  your  prisoner, 
CVi.th  no  rigor  or  incivility,  and  are  to  subject  him  to  no  other 
Restraint  than  is  necessary  for  his  security." 

"  I  have  looked  into  my  commission,"  said  Mr.  Gilfillan, 
"  subscribed  by  a  worthy  and  professing  nobleman,  William, 
Earl  of  Glencairn  ;  nor  do  I  find  it  therein  set  down  that  I  am 
to  receive  any  charges  or  commands  anent  my  doings  from 
Major  William  Melville  of  Cairnvreckan." 

M?jor  Melville  reddened  even  to  the  well-powdered  ears 


220  WAVER  LEY. 

which  appeared  beneath  his  neat  military  side-curls,  the  mow 
so  as  he  observed  Mr.  Morton  smile  at  the  same  moment. 
"  Mr.  Gilfillan,"  he  answered,  with  some  asperity,  "  I  beg 
ten  thousand  pardons  for  interfering  with  a  person  of  your  im- 
portance. I  thought  however,  that  as  you  have  been  bred  a 
grazier,  if  I  mistake  not,  there  might  be  occasion  to  remind 
you  of  the  difference  between  Highlanders  and  Highland  cattle  : 
and  if  you  should  happen  to  meet  with  any  gentleman  who  has 
seen  service,  and  is  disposed  to  speak  upon  the  subject,  I  should 
still  imagine  that  listening  to  him  would  do  you  no  sort  of 
harm.  But  I  have  done,  and  have  only  once  more  to  recom- 
mend this  gentleman  to  your  civility,  as  well  as  to  your  custody. 
— Mr.  Waverley,  I  am  truly  sorry  we  should  part  in  this  way ; 
but  I  trust,  when  you  are  again  in  this  country,  I  may  have 
an  opportunity  to  render  Cairnvreckan  more  agreeable  than 
circumstances  have  permitted  on  this  occasion." 

So  saying  he  shook  our  hero  by  the  hand.  Morton  also 
took  an  affectionate  farewell ;  and  Waverley  having  mounted 
his  horse,  with  a  musqueteer  leading  it  by  the  bridle,  and  a 
file  upon  each  side  to  prevent  his  escape,  set  forward  upon  the 
march  with  Gilfillan  and  his  party.  Through  the  little  village 
they  were  accompanied  with  the  shouts  of  the  children,  who 
cried  out,  "  Eh  !  see  to  the  Southland  gentleman,  that's  gaun 
to  be  hanged  for  shooting  lang  John  Mucklewrath  the  smith  !  " 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SIXTH. 

AN    INCIDENT. 

The  dinner-hour  of  Scotland  Sixty  Years  Since  was  two 
o  clock.  It  was  therefore  about  four  o'clock  of  a  delightful 
autumn  afternoon  that  Mr.  Gilfillan  commenced  his  march,  in 
hopes,  although  Stirling  was  eighteen  miles  distant,  he  might 
be  able,  by  becoming  a  borrower  of  the  night  for  an  hour  or 
two,  to  reach  it  that  evening.  He  therefore  put  forth  his 
strength,  and  marched  stoutly  along  at  the  head  of  his  fol- 
lowers, eyeing  our  hero  from  time  to  time,  as  if  he  longed  to 
enter  into  controversy  with  him.  At  length,  unable  to  resist 
the  temptation,  he  slackened  his  pace  till  he  was  alongside  ^ 


his  prisoner's  horse,  and  after  marching  a  fev;  steps  in  silence 
abreast  of  him,  he  suddenly  asked, — ''  Can  ye  say  wha  the 
carle  was  wi'  the  black  coat  and  the  mousted  head,  that  was 
wi  the  Laird  of  Cairnvreckan  ?  " 

"  A  Presbyterian  clergyman,"  answered  Waverley. 

"  Presbyterian  !  "  answered  Gilfillan,  contemptuously  ;  "  4 
wretched  Erastian,  or  rather  an  obscured  prelatist, — a  fa- 
vorer of  the  black  Indulgence  ;  ane  of  thae  dumb  dogs  that 
canaa  bark :  they  tell  ower  a  clash  o'  terror  and  a  clatter  o' 
comfort  in  their  sermons,  without  ony  sense,  or  savour,  or  life 
— Ye've  been  fed  in  siccan  a  fauld,  belike  ?" 

"  No ;  I  am  of  the  Church  of  England,"  said  Waverley. 

"And  they're  just  neighbor-like,"  replied  the  Covenanter; 
"and  nae  wonder  they  gree  sae  weel.  Wha  wad  hae  thought 
the  goodly  structure  of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  built  up  by  our 
fathers  in  1642,  wad  hae  been  defaced  by  carnal  ends  and  the 
corruptions  of  the  time  ;  — ay,  wha  wad  hae  thought  the  carved 
work  of  the  sanctuary  would  hae  been  sae  soon  cut  down  !  " 

To  this  lamentation,  which  one  or  two  of  the  assistants 
chorussed  with  a  deep  groan,  our  hero  thought  it  unnecessary 
to  make  any  reply.  Whereupon  Mr.  Gilfillan,  resolving  that  he 
should  be  a  hearer  at  least,  if  not  a  disputant,  proceeded  in  his 
Jeremiade. 

"  And  now  it  is  wonderful,  when,  for  lack  of  exercise  anent 
the  call  to  the  service  of  the  altar  and  the  duty  of  the  day, 
ministers  fall  into  sinful  compliances  with  patronage,  and 
indemnities,  and  oaths,  and  bonds,  and  other  corruptions, — is 
it  wonderful,  I  say,  that  you,  sir,  and  other  sic-like  unhappy 
persons,  should  labor  to  build  up  your  auld  Babel  of  iniquity, 
as  in  the  bluidy  persecuting  saint-killing  times  ?  I  trow,  gin 
ye  werena  blinded  wi'  the  graces  and  favors,  and  services  and 
enjoyments,  and  employments  and  inheritances,  of  this  wicked 
world,  I  could  prove  to  you,  by  the  Scripture,  in  what  a  filthy 
rag  ye  put  your  trust ;  and  that  your  surplices,  and  your  copes 
and  vestments,  are  but  cast-ofT  garments  of  the  muckle  harlot, 
that  sitteth  upon  seven  hills,  and  drinketh  of  the  cup  of  abom- 
ination. Put,  I  trow,  ye  are  deaf  as  adders  upon  that  side  of 
the  head  ;  ay,  ye  are  deceived  with  her  enchantments,  and  ye 
traffic  with  her  merchandise,  and  ye  are  drunk  with  the  cup  of 
her  fornication  1" 

How  much  longer  this  military  theologist  might  have  con-; 
tinned  his  invective„  in  which  he  spared  nobody  but  the  scat- 
tered remnant  of  hill-folk,  as  he  called  them,  is  absolutely  un- 
certain.    His  matter  was  copious,  his  voice  powerful,  and  his 


S2a  WAVERLBY. 

memory  strong  ;  so  that  there  was  little  chance  of  his  ending 
fcis  exhortation  till  the  party  had  reached  Stirling,  had  not  his 
attention  been  attracted  by  a  pedlar  who  had  joined  the  niarcl) 
from  a  cross-road,  and  who  sighed  or  groaned  with  great  regu- 
larity at  all  fitting  pauses  of  his  homily. 

"  And  what  may  ye  be,  friend  ? "  said  the  (jifted  GilfiUan. 

"  A  puir  pedlar,  that's  bound  for  Stirling,  and  craves  tha 
protection  of  your  honor's  party  in  these  kittle  times.  Ah  ! 
your  honor  has  a  notable  faculty  in  searching  and  explaining 
the  secret, — ay,  the  secret  and  obscure,  and  incomprehensible 
causes  of  the  backslidings  of  the  land  ;  ay,  your  honor  touches 
the  root  o'  the  matter." 

"Friend,"  said  GilC'.lan,  with  a  more  complacent  voice  than 
he  had  hitherto  used,  "  honor  not  me.  I  do  not  go  out  to  park- 
dikes,  and  to  steadings,  and  to  market-towns,  to  have  herds., 
and  cottars,  and  burghers  pull  off  their  bonnets  to  me  as  they 
do  to  Major  Melville  o'  Cairnvreckan,  and  ca'  me  laird,  or  cap- 
tain, or  honor  ; — no,  my  sma*  mean-;  '.  Iiilk  are  not  aboon 
twenty  thousand  merk,  have  had  the  1;  ing  of  increase,  but. 
the  pride  of  heart  has  not  increased  wiih  them  ;  nor  do  I 
delight  to  be  called  captain,  though  I  have  the  subscribed  com- 
mission of  that  gospel-searching  nobleman,  the  Earl  of  Glen- 
cairn,  in  whilk  I  am  so  designated.  While  I  live,  I  am  and 
will  be  called  Habakkuk  Gilfillan,  who  wdll  stand  up  for  the 
standards  of  doctrine  agreed  on  by  the  ance-famous  Kirk  of 
Scotland,  before  she  trafftcked  with  the  accursed  Achan,  while 
he  has  a  plack  in  his  purse,  or  a  drap  o'  bluid  in  his  body." 

*'  Ah,"  said  the  pedlar,  "  I  have  seen  your  land  about 
Mauchlin — a  fertile  spot !  your  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant 
places! — And  siccan  a  breed  o'  cattle  is  not  in  on^v  laird's  land 
in  Scotland." 

"  Ye  say  right — ye  say  right,  friend,"  retorted  Gilfilla?? 
eagerly,  for  he  was  not  inaccessible  to  flattery  upon  this  sub- 
ject— "  Ye  say  right ;  they  are  the  real  Lancashire,  and  there's 
no  the  like  o'  them  even  at  the  INIains  of  Kilmaurs  ;"  and  hu 
then  entered  into  a  discussion  of  their  excellences,  to  which 
our  readers  will  probably  be  as  indifferent  as  our  hero.  Aftei 
this  excursion,  the  leader  returned  to  his  theological  discus- 
sions, while  the  pedlar,  less  profound  upon  those  mystic  points, 
contented  himself  with  groaning,  and  expressing  his  edification 
at  suitable  intervals.  "What  a  blessing  it  would  be  to  the 
puir  blinded  popish  nations  among  whom  I  hae  sojourned,  to 
have  siccan  a  light  to  their  paths  !  I  hae  been  as  far  as  Mus- 
covia  in  my  sma'  trading  way,  as  a  travelling  merchant ;  and 


WAVERLEY 


223 


f  hae  been  through  France  and  the  Low  Co»Uitries,  and  a'' 
Poland,  and  maist  feck  o'  Germany,  and  O  I  it  would  grieve 
your  honor's  soul  to  see  the  murmuring,  and  the  singing,  and 
massing,  that's  in  the  kirk,  and  the  piping  that's  in  the  quire, 
and  the  heathenish  dancing  and  dicing  upon  the  Sabbath !  " 

This  set  GilfiUan  off  upon  the  Book  of  Sports  and  the  Cov- 
enant, and  the  Engagers,  and  the  Protesters,  and  the  Whigga 
mores'  Raid,  and  the  Assembly  of  Divines  of  Westminster,  and 
the  Longer  and  Shorter  Catechism,  and  the  Excommunication 
at  Torwood,  and  the  slaughter  of  Archbishop  Sharp.  This  last 
topic  again  led  him  into  the  lawfulness  of  defensive  arms,  on 
which  subject  he  uttered  much  more  sense  than  could  have 
been  expected  from  some  other  parts  of  his  harangi  ,  and  at- 
tracted even  Waverley's  attention,  who  had  hitherto  been  lost 
in  his  own  sad  reflections.  Mr.  Gilfillan  then  considered  the 
lawfulness  of  a  private  man  standing  forth  as  the  avenger  of 
public  oppression,  and  as  he  was  laboring  with  great  earnest- 
ness the  cause  of  Mas  James  Mitchell,  who  fired  at  the  Arch- 
bishop of  St.  Andrews  some  years  before  the  prelate's  assassi- 
nation on  Magus  Muir,  an  incident  occurred  which  interrupted 
his  harangue. 

The  rays  of  the  sun  were  lingering  on  the  very  verge  of  the 
horizon  as  the  party  ascended  a  hollow  and  somewhat  steep 
path,  which  led  to  the  summit  of  a  rising  ground.  The  country 
was  unenclosed,  being  part  of  a  very  extensive  heath  or  com- 
mon ;  but  it  was  far  from  level,  exhibiting  in  many  places  hol- 
lows filled  with  furze  and  broom  ;  in  others,  little  dingles  of 
stunted  brushwood.  A  thicket  of  the  latter  description 
r-rowned  the  hill  up  which  the  party  ascended.  The  foremost 
of  the  band,  being  the  stoutest  and  most  active,  had  pushed 
on,  and,  having  surmounted  the  ascent,  were  out  of  ken  for  the 
present.  Gilfillan,  with  the  pedlar,  and  the  small  party  who 
were  Waverley's  more  immediate  guard,  were  near  the  top  of 
the  ascent,  and  the  remainder  straggled  after  them  at  a  con- 
siderable interval. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  matters,  when  the  pedlar  missing, 
as  he  said,  a  little  doggie  which  belonged  to  him,  began  to  haH 
and  whistle  for  the  animal.  This  signal,  repeated  more  than 
once,  gave  offence  to  the  rigor  of  his  companion,  the  rather 
because  it  appeared  to  indicate  inattention  to  the  treasures  oi 
theological  and  controversial  knowledge  which  was  pouring  out 
for  his  edification.  He  therefore  signified  gruffly,  that  he  could 
Qot  waste  his  time  in  waiting  for  a  useless  cur. 

"But  if  your  honor  wad  consider  the  case  of  Tobit— — ' 


#•4 


WAVERLEY. 


"Tobit !"  exclaimed  Gilfillan,  with  great  iieat ;  "  Ibbit  and 
his  dog  baith  are  altogether  heathenish  and  apocryphal,  and 
none  but  a  prelatist  or  a  papist  would  draw  them  into  question. 
I  doubt  I  hae  been  mista'en  in  you,  friend." 

"  Very  likely,"  answered  the  pedlar  with  great  composure  j 
"  but  ne'ertheless,  I  shall  take  leave  to  whistle  again  upon  puii 
Bawty." 

This  last  signal  was  answered  in  an  unexpected  manner  ; 
for  six  or  eight  stout  Highlanders,  who  lurked  among  the  copse 
and  brushwood,  sprung  into  the  hollow  way,  and  began  to  lay 
about  them  with  their  claymores.  Gilfillan,  unappalled  at  this 
undesirable  apparition,  cried  out  manfully,  '^The  sword  of  the 
Lord  and  of  Gideon !  "  and,  drawing  his  broadsword,  would 
probably  have  done  as  much  credit  to  the  good  old  cause  as 
any  of  his  doughty  champions  at  Drumclog,  when,  behold  !  the 
pedlar,  snatching  a  musket  from  the  person  who  was  next  him, 
bestowed  the  butt  of  it  with  such  emphasis  on  the  head  of  his 
late  instructor  in  the  Cameronian  creed,  that  he  was  forthwith 
levelled  to  the  ground.  In  the  confusion  which  ensued,  the 
horse  which  bore  our  hero  was  shot  by  one  of  GilfiUan's  party, 
as  he  discharged  his  firelock  at  random.  Waverley  fell  with, 
and  indeed  under,  the  animal,  and  sustained  some  severe  con- 
tusions. But  he  was  almost  instantly  extricated  from  the  fallen 
steed  by  two  Highlanders,  who,  each  seizing  him  by  the  arm, 
hurried  him  away  from  the  scuffle  and  from  the  high-road. 
They  ran  with  great  speed,  half  supporting  and  half  dragging 
our  hero,  who  could,  however,  distinguish  a  few  dropping  shots 
fired  about  the  spot  which  he  had  left.  This,  as  he  afterwards 
learned,  proceeded  from  GilfiUan's  party,  who  had  now  assem- 
bled, the  stragglers  in  front  and  rear  having  joined  the  others. 
At  their  approach  the  Highlanders  drew  off,  but  not  before  they 
had  rifled  Gilfillan  and  two  of  his  people,  who  remained  on  the 
spot  grievously  wounded.  A  few  shots  were  exchanged  be- 
twixt them  and  the  Westlanders  ;  but  the  latter,  now  without  a 
commander,  and  apprehensive  of  a  second  ambush,  did  not 
make  any  serious  effort  to  recover  their  prisoner,  judging  it 
more  wise  to  proceed  on  their  journey  to  Stirling,  carr)-ing  with 
them  their  wounded  captain  and  comrades. 


iVAVERLEY.  aS| 

CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEVENTH. 

WAVERLEY   IS   STILL   IN   DISTRESS. 

The  velocity,  and  indeed  violence,  with  which  Waveriej 
was  hurried  along,  nearly  deprived  him  of  sensation  ;  for  tha 
injury  he  had  received  from  his  fall  prevented  him  from  aiding 
himself  so  effectually  as  he  might  otherwise  have  done.  When 
this  was  observed  by  his  conductors,  they  called  to  their  aid 
two  or  three  others  of  the  party,  and  swathing  our  hero's  body 
in  one  of  their  plaids,  divided  his  weight  by  that  means  among 
them,  and  transported  him  at  the  same  rapid  rate  as  before, 
without  any  exertion  of  his  own.  They  spoke  little,  and  that  in 
Gaelic  ;  and  did  not  slacken  their  pace  till  they  had  run  nearly 
two  miles,  when  they  abated  their  extreme  rapidity,  but  con- 
tinued still  to  walk  very  fast,  relieving  each  other  occasionally. 

Our  hero  now  endeavored  to  address  them,  but  was  only 
answered  with  "C//cz  iCeil Beiirl  agafii,  i.  c,  "  I  have  no  English," 
being,  as  Waverley  well  knew,  the  constant  reply  of  a  High- 
lander, when  he  either  does  not  understand,  or  does  not  choose 
to  reply  to,  an  Englishman  or  Lowlander.  He  then  mentioned 
the  name  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  concluding  that  he  was  indebted 
to  his  friendship,  for  his  rescue  from  the  clutches  of  Gifted 
Gilfillan  ;  but  neither  did  this  produce  any  mark  of  recognition 
from  his  escort. 

The  twilight  had  given  place  to  moonshine  when  the  party 
halted  upon  the  brink  of  a  precipitous  glen,  which,  as  partly 
enlightened  by  the  moonbeams,  seemed  full  of  trees  and  tangled 
brushwood.  Two  of  the  Highlanders  dived  into  it  by  a  small 
foot-path,  as  if  to  explore  its  recesses,  and  one  of  them  return- 
ing in  a  few  minutes,  said  something  to  his  companions,  who 
instantly  raised  their  burden,  and  bore  him,  with  great  attention 
and  care,  down  the  narrow  and  abrupt  descent.  Notwithstand- 
ing their  precautions,  however,  Waverley's  person  came  more 
than  once  into  contact,  rudely  enough,  with  the  projecting 
stumps  and  branches  which  overhung  the  pathway. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  descent,  and,  as  it  seemed,  by  the 
side  of  a  brook,  (for  Waverley  heard  the  rushing  of  a  consider- 
able body  of  water,  although  its  stream  was  invisible  in  the 
darkness,)  the  party  again  stopped  before  a  small  and  rudely- 
constructed  hovel.    The  door  was  open,  and  the  inside  of  th« 


fl35  WAVERLEY, 

premises  appeared  as  comfortable  and  rude  as  its  situation  and 
exterior  foreboded.  There  was  no  appearance  of  a  floor  of 
any  kind  ;  the  roof  seemed  rent  in  several  phces  ;  the  walls 
were  composed  of  loose  stones  and  turf,  and  the  thatch  of 
branches  of  trees.  The  fire  was  in  the  centre,  and  filled  the 
whole  wigwam  with  smoke,  which  escaped  as  much  through  the 
door  as  by  means  of  a  circular  aperture  in  the  roof.  An  old  High- 
land sibyl,  the  only  inhabitant  of  this  forlorn  mansion,  appeared 
busy  in  the  preparation  of  some  food.  By  the  light  which  the 
fire  afforded,  Waverley  could  discover  that  his  attendants  were 
not  of  the  clan  of  Ivor,  for  Fergus  was  particularly  strict  in 
requiring  from  his  followers  that  they  should  wear  the  tartan 
striped  in  the  mode  peculiar  to  their  race;  a  mark  of  distinction 
anciently  general  through  the  Highlands,  and  still  maintained 
by  those  Chiefs  who  were  proud  of  their  lineage,  or  jealous  of 
their  separate  and  exclusive  authority. 

Edward  had  lived  at  Glennaquoich  long  enough  to  be  aware 
of  a  distinction  which  he  had  repeatedly  heard  noticed,  and 
now  satisfied  that  he  had  no  interest  with  his  attendants,  he 
glanced  a  disconsolate  eye  around  the  interior  of  the  cabin. 
The  only  furniture,  excepting  a  washing-tub,  and  a  wooden 
press,  called  in  Scotland  an  ambry,  sorely  decayed,  was  a  large 
wooden  bed,  planked,  as  is  usual,  all  around,  and  opening  by 
a  sliding  panel.  In  this  recess  the  Highlanders  deposited 
Waverley,  after  he  had  by  signs  declined  any  refreshment.  His 
slumbers  were  broken  and  unrefreshing ;  strange  visions  passed 
before  his  e3'es,  and  it  required  constant  and  reiterated  efforts 
of  mind  to  dispel  them.  Shivering,  violent  headache,  and 
shooting  pains  in  his  limbs,  succeeded  these  symptoms  ;  and  in 
the  morning  it  was  evident  to  his  Highland  attendants,  or 
guard,  for  he  knew  not  in  which  light  to  consider  them,  that 
Waverley  was  quite  unfit  to  travel. 

After  a  long  consultation  among  themselves,  six  of  the  party 
left  the  hut  with  their  arms,  leaving  behind  an  old  and  a  young 
man.  The  former  undressed  Waverley,  and  bathed  the  contu 
sions,  which  swelling  and  livid  color  now  made  conspicuous. 
His  own  portmanteau,  which  the  Highlanders  had  not  failed 
to  bring  off,  supplied  him  with  linen,  and,  to  his  great  surprise, 
was, with  all  its  undiminished  contents,  freely  resigned  to  his 
use.  The  bedding  of  his  couch  seemed  clean  and  comfortable, 
and  his  aged  attendant  closed  the  door  of  the  bed,  for  it  had  no 
curtain,  after  a  few  words  of  Gaelic,  from  which  Waverlej 
gathered  that  he  exhorted  him  to  repose.  So  behold  our  hero 
tor  a  second  time  the  patient  of  a  Highland  Esculapius,  but  Id 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


227 


a  situation  much  more  uncomfortable  thas  when  he  was  the 
guest  of  a  worthy  Tomanrait. 

The  symptomatic  fever  which  accompanied  the  injuries  he 
had  sustained,  did  not  abate  till  the  third  day,  when  it  gave 
way  to  the  care  of  his  attendants  and  the  strength  of  his  con- 
stitution, and  he  could  now  raise  himself  in  his  bed,  though  not 
tvithout  pain.  He  observed,  however,  that  there  was  a  great 
disinclination,  on  the  part  of  the  old  woman  who  acted  as  his 
nurse,  as  well  as  on  that  of  the  elderly  Highlander,  to  permit 
the  door  of  the  bed  to  be  left  open,  so  that  he  might  amuse 
himself  with  observing  their  motions  ;  and  at  length,  after 
Waverley  had  repeatedly  drawn  open,  and  they  had  as  fre- 
quently shut,  the  hatchway  of  his  cage,  the  old  gentleman  put 
an  end  to  the  contest,  by  securing  it  on  the  outside  with  a  nail 
so  effectually,  that  the  door  could  not  be  drawn  till  thi^  exterior 
impediment  was  removed. 

While  musing  upon  the  cause  of  this  contradictory  spirit  in 
persons  whose  conduct  intimated  no  purpose  of  plunder,  and 
who,  in  all  other  points,  appeared  to  consult  his  welfare  and  his 
wishes,  it  occurred  to  our  hero,  that,  during  the  worse  crisis 
of  his  illness,  a  female  figure,  younger  than  his  old  Highland 
nurse,  had  appeared  to  flit  around  his  couch.  Of  this,  indeed, 
he  had  but  a  very  indistinct  recollection,  but  his  suspicions 
were  confirmed,  when,  attentively  listening,  he  often  heard,  in 
the  course  of  the  day,  the  voice  of  another  female  conversing  in 
whispers  with  his  attendant.  Who  could  it  be  ?  And  why  should 
she  apparently  desire  concealment  ?  Fancy  immediately  roused 
herself,  and  turned  to  Flora  Mac-Ivor.  But  after  a  short 
conflict  between  his  eager  desire  to  believe  she  was  in  his 
neighborhood,  guarding,  like  an  angel  of  mercy,  the  couch  of 
his  sickness,  Waverley  was  compelled  to  conclude  that  his 
conjecture  was  altogether  improbable  ;  since,  to  suppose  she 
had  left  her  comparatively  safe  situation  at  Glennaquoich 
to  descend  into  the  Low  Country,  now  the  seat  of  civil  war, 
and  to  inhabit  such  a  lurking-place  as  this,  was  a  thing  hardly 
to  be  imagined.  Yet  his  heart  bounded  as  he  sometimes  could 
distinctly  hear  the  trip  of  a  light  female  step  glide  to  or  from 
the  door  of  the  hut,  or  the  suppressed  sounds  of  a  female  voice, 
of  softness  and  delicacy,  hold  dialogue  with  the  hoarse  inward 
croak  of  old  Janet,  for  so  he  understood  his  antiquated  at- 
tendant was  denominated. 

Having  nothing  else  to  amuse  his  solitude,  he  employed 
himself  in  contriving  some  plan  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  in 
spite  of  the  sedulous  caution  of  Janet  and  the  old  Highland 


22S  WAVERLEY. 

Janizar}'',  for  he  had  never  seen  the  young  fellow  since  the  firs\ 
morning.  At  length,  upon  accurate  examination,  the  infirm 
state  of  his  wooden  prison-house  appeared  to  supply  the  means 
of  gratifying  his  curiosity,  for  out  of  a  spot  which  was  some- 
what decayed  he  was  able  to  extract  a  nail.  Through  this 
minute  aperture  he  could  perceive  a  female  form,  wrapped  in  a 
plaid,  in  the  act  of  conversing  with  Janet.  But,  since  the  days 
of  our  grandmother  Eve,  the  gratification  of  inordinate  curi- 
osity has  generally  borne  its  penalty  in  disappointment.  The 
form  was  not  that  of  Flora,  nor  was  the  face  visible  ;  and,  to 
crown  his  vexation,  while  he  labored  with  the  nail  to  enlarge 
the  hole,  that  he  might  obtain  a  more  complete  view,  a  slight 
noise  betrayed  his  purpose,  and  the  object  of  his  curiosity  in- 
stantly disappeared  ;  nor,  so  far  as  he  could  observe,  did  she 
again  revisit  the  cottage. 

All  precautions  to  blockade  his  view  were  from  that  time 
abandoned,  and  he  was  not  only  permitted,  but  assisted,  to 
rise,  and  quit  what  had  been,  in  a  literal  sense,  his  couch  of 
confinement.  But  he  was  not  allowed  to  leave  the  hut ;  for 
the  young  Highlander  had  now  rejoined  his  senior,  and  one  or 
other  was  constantly  on  the  watch.  Whenever  Waverley  ap- 
proached the  cottage  door,  the  sentinel  upon  duty  civilly,  but 
resolutely,  placed  himself  against  it  and  opposed  his  exit,  ac- 
companying his  action  with  signs  which  seemed  to  imply  there 
was  danger  in  the  attempt,  and  an  enemy  in  the  neighborhood. 
Old  Janet  appeared  anxious  and  upon  the  watch  ;  and  Waver- 
ley, who  had  not  yet  recovered  strength  enough  to  attempt  to 
take  his  departure  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  his  hosts,  was 
under  the  necessity  of  remaining  patient.  His  fare  was,  in 
every  point  of  view,  better  than  he  could  have  conceived  ;  for 
poultry,  and  even  wine,  were  no  strangers  to  his  table.  The 
Highlanders  never  presumed  to  eat  with  him,  and,  unless  in 
the  circumstance  of  watching  him,  treated  him  with  great  re- 
spect. His  sole  amusement  was  gazing  from  the  window,  or 
rather  the  shapeless  aperture  which  was  meant  to  answer  the 
purpose  of  a  window,  upon  a  large  and  rough  brook,  which 
raged  and  foamed  through  a  rocky  channel,  closely  canopied 
with  trees  and  bushes,  about  ten  feet  beneath  the  site  of  his 
house  of  captivity. 

Upon  the  sixth  day  of  his  confinement,  Waverley  found 
himself  so  well,  that  he  began  to  meditate  his  escape  from  this 
dull  and  miserable  prison-house,  thinking  any  risk  which  he 
might  incur  in  the  attempt  preferable  to  the  stupefying  and  in- 
tolerable uniformity  of  Janet's  retirement.     The  question  in- 


tVAVEir£.Ey. 


229 


deed  occurred,  whither  he  was  to  direct  his  course  when  again 
at  his  own  disposal.  Two  schemes  seemed  practicable,  yet 
both  attended  with  danger  and  difficulty.  One  was  to  go  back 
to  Glennaquoich,  and  join  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  by  whom  he  was 
sure  to  be  kindly  received  ;  and  in  the  present  state  of  his 
mind,  the  rigor  with  which  he  had  been  treated,  fully  absolved 
him,  in  his  own  eyes,  from  his  allegiance  to  the  existing  govern- 
ment. The  other  project  was  to  endeavor  to  attain  a  Scottish 
seaport,  and  thence  to  take  shipping  for  England.  His  mind 
wavered  between  these  pains,  and  probably,  if  he  had  effected 
his  escape  in  the  manner  he  proposed,  he  would  have  been 
finally  determined  by  the  comparative  facility  by  which  either 
might  have  been  executed.  But  his  fortune  had  settled  that 
he  was  not  to  be  left  to  his  option. 

Upon  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day,  the  door  of  the  hut 
suddenly  opened,  and  two  Highlanders  entered,  whom  Waver- 
ley  recognized  as  having  been  a  part  of  his  original  escort  to 
this  cottage.  They  conversed  for  a  short  time  with  the  old 
man  and  his  companion,  and  then  made  Waverley  understand, 
by  very  significant  signs,  that  he  was  to  prepare  to  accompany 
them.  This  was  a  joyful  communication.  What  had  already 
passed  during  his  confinement  made  it  evident  that  no  per- 
sonal injury  was  designed  to  him  ;  and  his  romantic  spirit, 
having  recovered  during  his  repose  much  of  that  elasticity 
which  anxiety,  resentment,  disappointment,  and  the  mixture  of 
unpleasant  feelings  excited  by  his  late  adventures  had  for  a 
time  subjugated,  was  now  wearied  with  inaction.  His  passion 
for  the  wonderful,  although  it  is  the  nature  of  such  dispositions 
to  be  excited  by  that  degree  of  danger  which  merely  gives 
dignity  to  the  feeling  of  the  individual  exposed  to  it,  had  sunk 
under  the  extraordinary  and  apparently  insurmountable  evils 
by  which  he  appeared  environed  at  Cairnvreckan.  In  fact, 
this  compound  of  intense  curiosity  and  exalted  imagination, 
forms  a  peculiar  species  of  courage,  which  somewhat  resem- 
bles the  light  usually  carried  by  a  miner,  sufficiently  compe- 
tent indeed,  to  afford  him  guidance  and  comfort  during  the 
ordinary  perils  of  his  labor,  but  certain  to  be  extinguished 
should  he  encounter  the  more  formidable  hazard  of  earth- 
damps  or  pestiferous  vapors.  It  was  now,  however,  once 
more  rekindled,  and  with  a  throbbing  mixture  of  hope,  awe, 
and  anxiety,  Waverley  watched  the  group  before  him,  as  those 
who  were  just  arrived  snatched  a  hasty  meal,  and  the  others 
assumed  their  arms,  and  made  brief  preparations  for  their  de« 
parture. 


tjo 


WAVERLEY. 


As  he  Sat  in  the  smoky  hut,  at  some  distance  from  the  firei, 
around  which  the  others  were  crowded,  he  felt  a  gentle  pres- 
sure upon  his  arm.  He  looked  around — it  was  Alice,  the 
daughter  of  Donald  Bean  Lean.  She  showed  him  a  packet  of 
papers  in  such  a  manner  that  the  motion  was  remarked  by  no 
one  else,  put  her  finger  for  a  second  to  her  lips,  and  passed 
on  as  if  to  assist  old  Janet  in  packing  Waverley's  clothes  in 
his  portmanteau.  It  was  obviously  her  wish  that  he  should 
not  seem  to  recognize  her  ;  yet  she  repeatedly  looked  back  at 
him,  as  an  opportunity  occurred  of  doing  so  unobserved,  and 
when  she  saw  that  he  remarked  what  she  did,  she  folded  the 
packet  with  great  address  and  speed  in  one  of  his  shirts,  which 
she  deposited  in  the  portmanteau. 

Here  then  was  fresh  food  for  conjecture.  Was  Alice  his 
unknown  warden,  and  was  this  maiden  of  the  cavern  the  tutelar 
genius  that  watched  his  bed  during  his  sickness  ?  Was  he  in 
the  hands  of  her  father  ?  and  if  so  what  w^as  his  purpose  ? 
Spoil,  his  usual  object,  seemed  in  this  case  neglected  ;  tor  not 
only  was  Waverley's  property  restored,  but  his  purse,  which 
might  have  tempted  this  professional  plunderer,  had  been  all 
along  suffered  to  remain  in  his  possession.  All  this  perhaps 
the  packet  might  explain  ;  but  it  was  plain  from  Alice's  man- 
ner, that  she  desired  he  should  consult  it  in  secret.  Nor  did 
she  again  seek  his  eye  after  she  had  satisfied  herself  that  her 
manoeuvre  was  observed  and  understood.  On  the  contrary, 
she  shortly  afterwards  left  the  hut,  and  it  was  only  as  she  trip- 
ped out  from  the  door,  that,  favored  by  the  obscurity,  she  gave 
Waverley  a  parting  smile,  and  nod  of  significance,  ere  she 
vanished  in  the  dark  glen. 

The  young  Highlander  was  repeatedly  despatched  by  his 
comrades  as  if  to  collect  intelligence.  At  length,  when  he  had 
returned  for  the  third  or  fourth  time,  the  whole  party  arose, 
and  made  signs  to  our  hero  to  accompany  them.  Before  his 
departure,  however,  he  shook  hands  with  old  Janet,  who  had 
been  so  sedulous  in  his  behalf,  and  added  substantial  marks 
of  his  gratitude  for  attendance. 

"  God  bless  you  !  God  prosper  you,  Captain  Waverley  !  " 
said  Janet,  in  good  Lowland  Scotch,  though  he  had  never 
hitherto  heard  her  utter  a  syllable,  save  in  Gaelic.  But  the  im' 
paticHce  of  his  attendants  prohibited  his  asking  any  explana 

tiOD 


WAFEJ^LEV,  i^f 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-EIGHTH. 

A   NOCTURNAL    ADVENTURE. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  when  the  whole  party  had 
got  out  of  the  hut ;  and  the  Highlander  who  assumed  the  com- 
mand, and  who,  in  Waverley's  awakened  recollection,  seemed 
to  be  the  same  tall  figure  who  had  acted  as  Donald  Bean  Lean's 
lieutenant,  by  whispers  and  signs  imposed  the  strictest  silence. 
He  delivered  to  Edward  a  sword  and  steel  pistol,  and,  point- 
ing up  the  track,  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  own  claymore, 
as  if  to  make  him  sensible  they  might  have  occasion  to  use 
force  to  make  good  their  passage.  He  then  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  party,  who  moved  up  the  pathway  in  single  or 
Indian  file,  Waverley  being  placed  nearest,  to  their  leader.  He 
moved  with  great  precaution,  as  if  to  avoid  giving  any  alarm, 
and  halted  as  soon  as  he  came  to  the  verge  of  the  ascent. 
Waverley  was  soon  sensible  of  the  reason,  for  he  heard  at  no 
great  distance  an  English  sentinel  call  out  "  All's  well."  The 
heavy  sound  sunk  on  the  night-wind  down  the  woody  glen,  and 
was  answered  by  the  echoes  of  its  banks.  A  second,  third, 
and  fourth  time  the  signal  was  repeated  fainter  and  fainter,  as 
if  at  a  greater  and  greater  distance.  It  was  obvious  that  a 
party  of  soldiers  were  near,  and  upon  their  guard,  though  not 
sufficiently  so  to  detect  men  skilful  in  every  art  of  predatory 
warfare,  like  those  with  whom  he  now  watched  their  ineffectual 
precautions. 

When  these  sounds  had  died  upon  the  silence  of  the  night, 
the  Highlanders  began  their  march  swiftly,  yet  with  the  most 
cautious  silence.  Waverley  had  little  time,  or  indeed  disposi- 
tion for  observation,  and  could  only  discern  that  they  passed 
at  some  distance  from  a  large  building,  in  the  windows  of  which 
a  light  or  two  yet  seemed  to  twinkle.  A  little  farther  on,  the 
leading  Highlander  snuffed  the  wind  like  a  setting  spaniel,  and 
then  made  a  signal  to  his  party  again  to  halt.  He  stooped 
down  upon  all  fours,  wrapped  up  in  his  plaid,  so  as  to  be  scarce 
distinguishable  from  the  heathy  ground  on  which  he  moved, 
and  advanced  in  this  posture  to  reconnoitre.  In  a  short  time 
he  returned,  and  dismissed  his  attendants  excepting  one  ;  and, 
intimating  to  Waverley  that  he  must  imitate  his  cautious  niodo 
of  proceeding,  all  three  crept  forward  on  hands  and  knees. 


232 


WAVER  LEV, 


After  proceeding  a  greater  way  in  this  inconvenient  niannei 
than  was  at  all  comfortable  to  his  knees  and  shins,  Waverley 
perceived  the  smell  of  smoke,  which  probably  had  been  much 
sooner  distinguished  by  the  more  acute  nasal  organs  of  his 
guide.  It  proceeded  from  the  corner  of  a  low  and  ruinous 
sheep-fold,  the  walls  of  which  were  made  of  loose  stones,  as  is 
usual  in  Scotland,  Close  by  this  low  wall  the  Highlanclei 
guided  Waverley,  and  in  order  probably  to  make  him  sensible 
of  his  danger,  or  perhaps  to  obtain  the  full  credit  of  his  own 
dexterity,  he  intimated  to  him,  by  sign  and  example,  that  he 
might  raise  his  head  so  as  to  peep  into  the  sheep-fold.  Wa- 
verley did  so,  and  beheld  an  outpost  of  four  or  five  soldiers 
lying  by  their  watch-fire.  They  were  all  asleep,  except  the 
sentinel,  who  paced  backwards  and  forwards  with  his  firelock 
on  his  shoulder,  which  glanced  red  in  the  light  of  the  fire  as 
he  crossed  and  re-crossed  before  it  in  his  short  walk,  casting 
his  eye  frequently  to  that  part  of  the  heavens  from  which  the 
moon,  hitherto  obscured  by  mist,  seemed  now  about  to  make 
her  appearance. 

In  the  course  of  a  minute  or  two,  by  one  of  those  sudden 
changes  of  atmosphere  incident  to  a  mountainous  country,  a 
breeze  arose,  and  swept  before  it  the  clouds  which  had  covered 
the  horizon,  and  the  night  planet  poured  her  full  effulgence  upon 
a  wide  and  blighted  heath,  skirted  indeed  with  copsewood  and 
stunted  trees  in  the  quarter  from  which  they  had  come,  but  open 
and  bare  to  the  observation  of  the  sentinel  in  that  to  which 
their  course  tended.  The  wall  of  the  sheep-fold  indeed  con- 
cealed them  as  they  lay,  but  any  advance  beyond  its  shelter 
seemed  impossible  without  certain  discovery. 

The  Highlander  eyed  the  blue  vault,  but  far  from  blessing 
the  useful  light  with  Homer's,  or  rather  Pope's,  benighted  peas- 
ant, he  muttered  a  Gaelic  curse  upon  the  unseasonable  splendor 
of  MacFarlatie's  buat  ii.  e.,  lantern).^^  He  looked  anxiously 
around  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  apparently  took  his  resolu- 
tion. Leaving  his  attendant  with  Waverley,  after  motioning  to 
Edward  to  remain  quiet,  and  giving  his  comrade  directions  in  a 
brief  whisper,  he  retreated,  favored  by  the  irregularity  of  the 
ground,  in  the  same  direction  and  in  the  same  manner  as  they 
had  advanced.  Edward,  turning  his  head  after  him,  could  per- 
ceive him  crawling  on  all  fours  with  the  dexterity  of  an  Indian, 
availing  himself  of  every  bush  and  inequality  to  escape  observa- 
tion, and  never  passing  over  the  more  exposed  parts  of  his 
track  until  the  sentinel's  back  was  turned  from  him.  At  length 
he  reached  the  thickets  and  underwood  which  partly  covered 


IVAmnLEY. 


'■^ZZ 


the  moor  in  that  direction,  and  probably  extendea  to  the  verge 
of  the  glen  where  Waverley  had  been  so  long  an  inhabitant. 
The  Highlander  disappeared,  bnt  it  was  only  for  a  few  minutes, 
for  he  suddenly  issued  forth  from  a  ciiilerent  part  of  the  thicket, 
and  advancing  boldly  upon  the  open  heath,  as  if  to  invite  dis- 
covery, he  levelled  his  piece,  and  fired  at  the  sentinel.  A 
wound  in  the  arm  proved  a  disagreeable  interruption  to  the 
poor  fellow's  meteorological  observations,  as  well  as  to  the  tune 
of  Nancy  Dawson,  which  he  was  whistling.  He  returned  the 
fire  ineffectually,  and  his  comrades,  starting  up  at  the  alarm, 
advanced  alertly  towards  the  spot  from  which  the  first  shot  had 
issued.  The  Highlander,  after  giving  them  a  full  view  of  his 
person,  dived  among  the  thickets,  for  his  ruse de  guerre  hzdnovt 
perfectly  succeeded. 

While  the  soldiers  pursued  the  cause  of  their  disturbance 
in  one  direction,  Waverley,  adopting  the  hint  of  his  remaining 
attendant,  made  the  best  of  his  speed  in  that  which  his  guide 
originally  intended  to  pursue,  and  which  now  (the  attention  of 
the  soldiers  being  drawn  to  a  different  quarter)  was  unobserved 
and  unguarded.  When  they  had  run  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
the  brow  of  a  rising  ground,  which  they  had  surmounted,  con- 
cealed them  from  further  risk  of  observation.  They  still  heard, 
however,  at  a  distance,  the  shouts  of  the  soldiers  as  they  hal- 
looed to  each  other  upon  the  heath,  and  they  could  also  hear 
the  distant  roll  of  a  drum  beating  to  arms  in  the  same  direction. 
But  these  hostile  sounds  were  now  far  in  the  rear,  and  died 
away  upon  the  breeze  as  they  rapidly  proceeded. 

When  they  had  walked  about  half  an  hour,  still  along  open 
and  waste  ground  of  the  same  description,  they  came  to  the 
stump  of  an  ancient  oak,  which,  from  its  relics,  appeared  to 
have  been  at  one  time  a  tree  of  very  large  size.  In  an  adjacent 
hollow  they  found  several  Highlanders,  with  a  horse  or  two. 
They  had  not  joined  them  above  a  few  minutes,  which  Waver- 
ley's  attendant  employed,  in  all  probability,  in  communicating 
the  cause  of  their  delay  (for  the  words  '  Duncan  Duroch '  were 
often  repeated),  when  Duncan  himself  appeared,  out  of  breath 
indeed,  and  with  all  the  symptoms  of  having  run  for  his  life, 
but  laughing,  and  in  high  spirits  at  the  success  of  the  stratagem 
by  which  he  had  baffled  his  pursuers.  This  indeed  Waverley 
could  easily  conceive  might  be  a  matter  of  no  great  difficulty 
to  the  active  mountaineer,  who  was  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  ground,  and  traced  his  course  with  a  firmness  and  confi- 
dence to  which  his  pursuers  must  have  been  strangers.  The 
alarm  which  he  excited  seemed  still  to  continue,  for  a  dropping 


»34 


IVAVERLEY. 


shot  or  two  were  heard  at  a  great  distance,  which  seemed  td 
serve  as  an  addition  to  the  mirth  of  Duncan  and  his  comrades. 

The  mountaineer  now  resumed  the  arms  with  which  he  had 
intrusted  our  hero,  giving  him  to  understand  that  the  dangers 
of  the  journey  were  happily  surmounted.  Waverley  was  then 
mounted  upon  one  of  the  horses,  a  change  whicli  the  fatigue  of 
the  night  and  his  recent  iUness  rendeivd  exceedingly  acceptable. 
His  portmanteau  was  placed  on  another  pony,  Duncan  mounted 
a  third,  and  they  set  forward  at  a  round  pace,  accompanied  by 
their  escort.  No  other  incident  marked  the  course  of  that 
night's  journey,  and  at  the  dawn  of  morning  they  attained  the 
banks  of  a  rapid  river.  The  country  around  was  at  once  fertile 
and  romantic.  Steep  banks  of  wood  were  broken  by  corn 
fields,  which  this  year  presented  an  abundant  harvest,  already 
in  a  great  measure  cut  down. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and  partly  surrounded 
by  a  winding  of  its  stream,  stood  a  large  and  massive  castle,  the 
half-ruined  turrets  of  which  were  already  glittering  in  the  first 
rays  of  the  sun.'^'^  It  was  in  form  an  oblong  square,  of  size  suf- 
ficient to  contain  a  large  court  in  the  centre.  The  towers  at 
each  angle  of  the  square  rose  higher  than  the  walls  of  the  build- 
ing, and  were  in  their  turn  surmounted  by  turrets,  differing  in 
height  and  irregular  in  shape.  Upon  one  of  these  a  sentinel 
watched,  whose  bonnet  and  plaid,  streaming  in  the  wind,  de- 
clared him  to  be  a  Highlander,  as  a  broad  white  ensign,  which 
floated  from  another  tower,  announced  that  the  garrison  was 
held  by  the  insurgent  adherents  of  the  house  of  Stuart. 

Passing  hastily  through  a  small  and  mean  town,  where  their 
appearance  excited  neither  surprise  nor  curiosity  in  the  few 
peasants  whom  the  labors  of  the  harvest  began  to  summon  from 
their  repose,  the  party  crossed  an  ancient  and  narrow  bridge 
of  several  arches,  and  turning  to  the  left,  up  an  avenue  of  huge 
old  sycamores,  Waverley  found  himself  in  front  of  the  gloomy 
yet  picturesque  structure  which  he  had  admired  at  a  distance. 
A  huge  iron-grated  door,  which  formed  the  exterior  defence  of 
the  gateway,  was  already  thrown  back  to  receive  them  ;  and  a 
second,  heavily  constructed  of  oak,  and  studded  thickly  with 
iron  nails,  being  next  opened,  admitted  them  into  the  interior 
court-yard.  A  gentleman,  dressed  in  the  Highland  garb,  and 
having  a  white  cockade  in  his  bonnet,  assisted  Waverley  to  dis 
mount  from  his  horse,  and  with  much  courtesy  bid  him  welcome 
to  the  castle. 

The  governor,  for  so  we  must  term  him,  having  conducted 
^Vaverley  to   a  half-ruinous  apartment,  where,  however,  ther§ 


tVJ  VERLE  Y.  23^ 

was  a  small  camp-bed,  and  having  offered  him  any  refreshment 
which  he  desired,  was  then  about  to  leave  him. 

"  Will  you  not  add  to  your  civilities,"  said  Waverley,  after 
having  made  the  usual  acknowledgement,  "by  having  the  kind- 
ness to  inform  me  where  I  am,  and  whether  or  not  I  am  to  con- 
sider myself  as  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  be  so  explicit  upon  this  subject  as  \ 
could  wish.  Briefly,  however,  you  are  in  the  Castle  of  Doune, 
in  the  district  of  Menteith,  and  in  no  danger  whatever." 

"  And  how  am  I  assured  of  that  t  " 

"  By  the  honor  of  Donald  Stuart,  governor  of  the  garrison, 
and  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  service  of  his  Royal  Highness 
Prince  Charles  Edward."  So  saying,  he  hastily  left  the  apart- 
ment, as  if  to  avoid  further  discussion. 

Exhausted  by  the  fatigues  of  the  night,  our  hero  now  threw 
himself  upon  the  bed,  and  was  in  a  few  minutes  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-NINTH. 

THE  JOURNEY  IS   CONTINUED. 

Before  Waverley  awakened  from  his  repose,  the  day  was 
far  advanced,  and  he  began  to  feel  that  he  had  passed  many 
hours  without  food.  This  was  soon  supplied  in  form  of  a  copi* 
ous  breakfast ;  but  Colonel  Stuart,  as  if  wishing  to  avoid  the 
queries  of  his  guest,  did  not  again  present  himself.  His  com- 
pliments were,  however,  delivered  by  a  servant,  with  an  offerto 
provide  anything  in  his  power  that  could  be  useful  to  Captain 
Waverley  on  his  journey,  which  he  intimated  would  be  continued 
that  evening.  To  Waverley's  further  inquiries,  the  servant  op- 
posed the  impenetrable  barrier  of  real  or  affected  ignorance 
and  stupidity.  He  removed  the  table  and  provisions,  and 
Waverley  was  again  consigned  to  his  own  meditations. 

As  he  contemplated  the  strangeness  of  his  fortune,  which 
seemed  to  delight  in  placing  him  at  the  disposal  of  otiiers,  with- 
out the  power  of  directing  his  own  motions,  Kdward"s  eye  sud 
dcnly  rested  upon  his  portmanteau,  which  had  been  deposited 
in  liis  apartment  during  his  sleep.  The  mysterious  appearance 
of  Alice,  in  the  cottage  of  the  glen,  immediately  rusiied  upon 
his  mind,  and  he  was  about  to  secure  and  examine  the  packet 
which  she  had  deposited  among  his  clothes,  when  the  servarft 


236  iVAP'EA'L£:r. 

of  Colonel  Stuart  again  made  his  appearance,  and  took  up  the 
portmanteau  upon  his  shoulders. 

"  May  I  not  take  out  a  change  of  linen,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Your  honor  sail  get  ane  o'  the  colonel's  ain  ruffled  sarksi 
but  this  maun  gang  in  the  baggage-cart." 

And  so  saying,  he  very  coolly  carried  off  the  portmanteau, 
without  waiting  further  remonstrance,  leaving  our  hero  in  a 
state  where  disappointment  and  indignation  struggled  for  the 
master)'.  In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  a  cart  rumble  out  of  the 
rugged  court-yard,  and  made  no  doubt  that  he  was  now  dis- 
possessed, for  a  space  at  least,  if  not  forever,  of  the  only  docu- 
ments which  seemed  to  promise  some  light  upon  the  dubious 
events  which  had  of  late  influenced  his  destiny.  With  such 
melancholy  thoughts  he  had  to  beguile  about  four  or  five  hours 
of  solitude. 

When  this  space  was  elapsed,  the  trampling  of  b  rse  was 
heard  in  the  court-yard,  and  Colonel  Stuart  soon  after  made 
his  appearance  to  request  his  guest  to  take  some  further  refresh- 
ment before  his  departure.  The  offer  was  accepted,  for  a  late 
breakfast  had  by  no  means  left  our  hero  incapable  of  doing 
honor  to  dinner,  which  was  now  presented.  The  conversation 
of  his  host  was  that  of  a  plain  country  gentleman,  mixed  with 
some  soldier-like  sentiments  and  expressions.  He  cautiously 
avoided  any  reference  to  the  militar}^  operations,  or  civil  politics 
of  the  time  :  and  to  Waverley's  direct  inquiries  concerning  some 
of  these  points,  replied,  that  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  speak  upon 
such  topics. 

When  dinner  was  finished,  the  governor  arose,  and,  wishing 
Edward  a  good  journey,  said,  that  having  been  informed  by 
Waverley's  servant  that  his  baggage  had  been  sent  forward,  he 
had  taken  the  freedom  to  supply  him  with  such  changes  of  linen 
as  he  might  find  necessary  till  he  was  again  possessed  of  his  own. 
With  this  compliment  he  disappeared.  A  servant  acquainted 
Waverley  an  instant  afterwards  that  his  horse  was  ready. 

Upon  this  hint  he  descended  into  the  court-yard,  and  found 
a  trooper  holding  a  saddled  horse,  on  which  he  mounted,  and 
sallied  from  the  portal  of  Doune  Castle,  attended  by  about  a 
score  of  armed  men  on  horseback.  These  had  less  the  appear- 
ance of  regular  soldiers  than  of  individuals  who  had  suddenly 
assumed  arms  from  some  pressing  motive  of  unexpected  emer- 
gency. Their  uniform,  which  was  blue  and  red,  and  affected 
imitation  of  that  of  the  French  chasseurs,  was  in  many  respects 
incomplete,  and  sat  awkwardly  upon  those  who  wore  it.  Wa- 
rerley's  eye, accustomed  to  look  at  a  well-disciplined  regiment, 


U^A  VERLEY. 


23? 


couid  easily  discover  that  the  motions  and  habits  of  his  escort 
were  aot  those  of  trained  soldiers,  and  that,  although  expert 
enough  in  the  management  of  their  horses,  their  skill  was  that 
of  huntsmen  or  grooms,  rather  than  of  troopers.  The  horses 
were  not  trained  to  the  regular  pace  so  necessary  to  execute 
simultaneous  and  combined  movements  and  formations  :  nor 
did  they  seem  bitted  (as  it  is  technically  expressed)  for  the 
use  of  the  sword.  The  men,  however,  were  stout,  hardy-look- 
ing fellows,  and  might  be  individually  formidable  as  irregular 
cavalry.  The  commander  of  this  small  party  was  mounted  upon 
an  excellent  hunter,  and  although  dressed  in  uniform,  his  change 
of  apparel  did  not  prevent  Waverley  from  recognizing  his  old 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Falconer  of  Balmawhapple. 

Now,  although  the  terms  upon  which  Edward  had  parted 
with  this  gentleman  were  none  of  the  most  friendly,  he  would 
have  sacrificed  every  recollection  of  their  foolish  quarrel  for 
the  pleasure  of  enjoying  once  more  the  social  intercourse  of 
question  and  answer,  from  which  he  had  been  so  long  secluded. 
But  apparently  the  remembrance  of  his  defeat  by  the  Baron  of 
Bradvvardine,  of  which  Edward  had  been  the  unwilling  cause, 
still  rankled  in  the  mind  of  the  low-bred,  and  yet  proud  laird. 
He  carefully  avoided  giving  the  least  sign  of  recognition,  riding 
doggedly  at  the  head  of  his  men,  who,  though  scarce  equal  in 
numbers  to  a  sergeant's  party,  were  denominated  Captain  Fal- 
coner's troop,  being  preceded  by  a  trumpet,  which  sounded 
from  time  to  time,  and  a  standard  borne  by  Cornet  Falconer, 
the  laird's  younger  brother.  The  lieutenant,  an  elderly  man, 
had  much  the  air  of  a  low  sportsman  and  boon  companion  ;  an 
expression  of  dry  humor  predominated  in  his  countenance  over 
features  of  a  vulgar  cast,  which  indicated  habitual  intemper- 
ance. His  cocked  hat  was  set  knowingly  upon  one  side  of  his 
head,  and  while  he  whistled  the  "  Bob  of  Dumblain  "  under  the 
influence  of  half  a  mutchkin  of  brandy,  he  seemed  to  trot 
merrily  forward,  with  a  happy  indifference  to  the  state  of  the 
country,  the  conduct  of  the  party,  the  end  of  the  journey,  and 
all  other  sublunary  matters  whatever. 

From  this  wight,  who  now  and  then  dropped  alongside  of 
his  horse,  Waverley  hoped  to  acquire  some  informattori.  or  at 
least  to  beguile  the  way  with  talk. 

"A  fine  evening,  sir,"  was  Edward's  salutation. 
**  Ow,  ay,  sir  !  a  bra'  night,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  in  broad 
Scotch  of  the  most  vulgar  description. 

"And  a  fine  harvest,  apparently,"  continued  Wavaxley,  £ol« 
lowing  up  his  first  attack. 


238  WAVERLEY, 

"  Ay,  the  alts  will  be  got  bravely  in  :  but  the  farmers,  de'H 
burst  them,  and  the  corn-mongers,  will  make  the  auld  price 
glide  against  them  as  has  horses  till  keep." 

"  You  perhaps  act  as  quarter-master,  sir  ?  " 

"Ay,  quarter-master,  riding-master,  and  lieutenant,"  an- 
swered this  officer  of  all  work.  "And,  to  be  sure,  what's  fitter 
to  look  after  the  breaking  and  the  keeping  of  the  poor  beasts 
than  mysel,  that  bought  and  sold  every  ane  o'  them  1 " 

"  And  pray,  sir,  if  it  be  not  too  great  a  freedom,  may  I  beg 
to  know  where  we  are  going  just  now  ?  " 

"  Afule's  errand,  I  fear,"  answered  this  communicative  per- 
sonage. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Waverle}'^,  determined  not  to  spare 
civility,  "  I  should  have  thought  a  person  of  your  appearance 
would  not  have  been  found  on  the  road." 

"  Vera  true,  vera  true,  sir,"  replied  the  officer,  "  but  every 
why  has  its  wherefore.  Ye  maun  ken,  the  laird  there  brought 
a'  thir  beasts  frae  me  to  munt  his  troop,  and  agreed  to  pay  for 
them  according  to  the  necessities  and  prices  of  the  time.  But 
then  he  hadna  the  ready  penny,  and  I  hae  been  advised  his  bond 
will  not  be  worth  a  boddle  against  the  estate,  and  then  I  had  a' 
my  dealers  to  settle  wi'  at  Martinmas  ;  and  so  as  he  very  kindly 
offered  me  this  commission,  and  as  the  auld  Fifteen^^  wad  never 
help  me  to  my  siller  for  sending  out  naigs  against  the  govern- 
ment, why  conscience  !  sir,  I  thought  my  best  chance  for  pay- 
ment was  e'en  to  gae  out  mysel ;  and  ye  may  judge,  sir,  as  I 
hae  dealt  a'  my  life  in  halters,  I  think  na  mickle  o'  putting  my 
craig  in  peril  of  a  St.  Johnstone's  tippet."  ®^ 

"  You  are  not,  then,  by  profession  a  soldier  ? "  said  Wa- 
verley. 

"  Na,  na,  thank  God,"  answered  this  doughty  partizan,  "  I 
wasna  bred  at  sae  short  a  tether ;  I  was  brought  up  to  hack 
and  manger.  I  was  bred  a  horse-couper,  sir ;  and  if  I  might 
live  to  see  you  at  Whitson-tryst,  or  at  Stagshaw-bank,  or  the 
winter  fair  at  Hawick,  and  ye  wanted  a  spanker  that  would 
lead  the  field,  I'se  be  caution  I  would  serve  ye  easy,  for  Jamie 
Jinker  was  ne'er  the  lad  to  impose  upon  a  gentleman.  Ye're 
a  gentleman,  sir,  and  should  ken  a  horse's  points  ;  ye  see  that 
through-ganging  thing  that  Balmawhapple's  on :  I  selled  her 
till  him.  She  was  bred  out  of  Lick-the-Ladle,  that  wan  the 
king's  plate  at  Caverton-Edge,  by  Duke  Hamilton's  White- 
Foot,"  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 

But  as  Jinker  was  entered  full  sail  upon  the  pedigree  of 
Balmawhapple's  mare,.having  already  got  as  far  as  great  grand' 


waverley. 


239 


sive  and  great  grand-dam,  and  while  Waverley  was  watching 
for  an  opportunity  to  obtain  from  him  intelligence  of  more  in- 
terest, the  noble  captain  checked  his  horse  until  they  came  up, 
and  then,  without  directly  appearing  to  notice  Edward,  said 
sternly  to  the  genealogist,  "  1  thought,  lieutenant,  my  orders 
were  preceese,  that  no  one  should  speak  to  the  prisoner  ?  " 

The  metamorphosed  horse-dealer  was  silenced  of  course, 
and  slunk  to  the  rear,  where  he  consoled  Iiimself  by  entering 
into  a  vehement  dispute  upon  the  price  of  hay  with  a  farmer, 
who  had  reluctantly  followed  his  laird  to  the  field,  rather  than 
give  up  his  farm,  whereof  the  lease  had  just  expired.  Waver- 
ley was  therefore  once  more  consigned  to  silence,  foreseeing 
that  further  attempts  at  conversation  with  any  of  the  paiu 
would  only  give  Bahnawhapple  a  wished-for  opportunity  to  dis- 
play the  insolence  of  ajjthority,  and  the  sulky  spite  of  a  lempti 
naturally  dodged,  and  rendered  more  so  by  habits  of  low  in- 
dulgence and  the  incense  of  servile  adulation. 

In  about  two  hours  time,  the  party  were  near  the  Castla  vi 
Stirling,  ov^er  whose  battlements  the  union  flag  was  brightened 
as  it  waved  in  the  evening  sun.  To  shorten  his  journey,  or 
perhaps  to  display  his  importance  and  insult  the  English  gar- 
rison, Bahnawhapple,  inclining  to  the  right,  took  his  route 
through  the  royal  park,  which  reaches  to  and  surrounds  the 
rock  upon  which  the  fortress  is  situated. 

With  a  mind  more  at  ease,  Waverley  could  not  have  failed 
to  admire  the  mixture  of  romance  and  beauty  which  render 
interesting  the  scene  through  which  he  was  now  passing — the 
field  which  had  been  the  scene  of  the  tournaments  of  old — the 
rock  from  which  the  ladies  beheld  the  contest,  while  each  made 
vows  for  the  success  of  some  favorite  knight — the  towers  of 
the  Gothic  church,  where  these  vows  might  be  paid — and,  sur- 
mounting all,  the  fortress  itself,  at  once  a  castle  and  palace 
where  valor  received  the  prize  from  royalty,  and  knights  and 
dames  closed  the  evening  amid  the  revelry  of  the  dance,  the 
song,  and  the  feast.  All  these  were  objects  fitted  to  arouse 
and  interest  a  romantic  imagination. 

But  Waverley  had  other  objects  of  meditation,  and  an  in- 
cident soon  occurred  of  a  nature  to  disturb  meditation  of  any 
kind.  Bahnawhapple,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart,  as  he  wheeled 
his  little  body  of  cavalry  around  the  base  of  the  castle,  com- 
manded his  trumpet  to  sound  a  flourish,  and  his  standard  to 
be  displayed.  Tliis  insult  produced  apparently  some  sensa^ 
tion  ;  for  when  the  cavalcade  was  at  such  distance  from  the 
southern  battery  as  to  admit  of  a  gun  being  depressed  so  as  to 


240  WAVERlEY, 

bear  upon  them,  a  flash  of  fire  issued  from  one  of  the  embra» 

urcs  upon  the  rock ;  and  ere  the  report,  with  which  it  was  at- 
tended, could  be  heard,  the  rushing  sound  of  a  cannon-ball 
passed  over  Balmawhapple's  head,  and  the  bullet  burying 
itself  in  the  ground  at  a  few  yards  distance,  covered  him  with 
the  earth  which  it  drove  up.  There  was  no  need  to  bid  the 
party  trudge.  In  fact,  every  man  acting  upon  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  soon  brought  Mr.  J  inker's  steeds  to  show  their 
mettle,  and  the  cavaliers,  retreating  with  more  speed  than  regu- 
larity, never  took  to  a  trot,  as  the  lieutenant  afterwards  ob- 
served, until  an  intervening  eminence  had  secured  them  from 
any  repetition  of  so  undesirable  a  compliment  on  the  part  0/ 
Stirling  Castle.  I  must  do  Balmawhapple,  however,  the  justice 
to  say,  that  he  not  only  kept  the  rear  of  his  troop,  and  labored 
to  maintain  some  order  among  them,  but  in  the  height  of  hi.s 
gallantry,  answered  the  fire  of  the  castle  by  discharging  one  of 
his  horse-pistols  at  the  battlements  ;  although,  the  distance 
being  nearly  half  a  mile,  I  could  never  learn  that  this  measure 
of  retaliation  was  attended  with  any  particular  effect. 

The  travellers  now  passed  the  memorable  field  of  Bannock- 
burn,  and  reached  the  Torwood,  a  place  glorious  or  terrible  to 
the  recollections  of  the  Scottish  peasant,  as  the  feats  of  Wal- 
lace, or  the  cruelties  of  Wude  Willie  Grime,  predominate  in 
his  recollections.  At  Falkirk,  a  town  formerly  famous  in  Scot- 
tish histor}'',  and  soon  to  be  again  distinguished  as  the  scene 
of  military  events  of  importance,  Balmawhapple  proposed  to 
halt  and  repose  for  the  evening.  This  v/as  performed  with . 
very  little  regard  to  military  discipline,  his  worthy  quarter- 
master being  chiefly  solicitous  to  discover  where  the  best 
brandy  might  be  come  at.  Sentinels  were  deemed  unnecessary, 
and  the  only  vigils  performed  were  those  of  such  of  the  party 
as  could  procure  liquor.  A  few  resolute  men  might  easily  have 
cut  off  the  detachment ;  but  of  the  inhabitants  some  were  favor- 
able, many  indifferent,  and  the  rest  overawed.  So  nothing 
memorable  occurred  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  except  that 
Waverley's  rest  was  sorely  interrupted  by  the  revellers  halloo- 
ing forth  their  Jacobite  songs,  without  remorse  or  mitigation  of 
voice. 

Early  in  the  morning  they  were  again  mounted,  and  on  the 
road  to  Edinburgh,  though  the  pallid  visages  of  some  of  the 
troop  betrayed  that  they  had  spent  a  night  of  sleepless  de- 
bauchery. They  halted  at  Linlithgow,  distinguished  by  its 
ancient  palace,  which,  Sixty  Years  Since,  was  entire  and  habi- 
table, and  whose  venerab^f"  ruins,  tiot  quite  Sixty  Years  Si?ice^ 


WAVERLEV.  24t 

very  narrowly  escaped  the  unworthy  fate  of  V»eing  converted 
into  a  barrack  for  French  prisoners.  May  repose  and  blessings 
attend  the  ashes  of  the  patriotic  statesman,  who,  among  his  last 
services  to  Scotland,  interposed  to  prevent  this  profanation  ! 

As  they  approached  the  metropolis  of  Scotland,  through  a 
champaign  and  cultivated  country,  the  sounds  of  war  began  to 
be  heard.  The  distant,  yet  distinct  report  of  heavy  cannon, 
fired  at  intervals,  apprised  Waverley  that  the  work  of  destruc- 
tion was  going  forward.  Even  Balmawhapple  seemed  moved 
to  take  some  precautions,  by  sending  an  advanced  party  in 
front  of  his  troop,  keeping  the  main  body  in  tolerable  order, 
and  moving  steadily  forward. 

Marching  in  this  manner  they  speedily  reached  an  eminence, 
from  which  they  could  view  Edinburgh  stretching  along  the 
ridgy  hill  which  slopes  eastward  from  the  castle.  The  latter, 
being  in  a  state  of  siege,  or  rather  of  blockade,  by  the  northern 
insurgents,  who  had  already  occupied  the  town  for  two  or  three 
days,  fired  at  intervals  upon  such  parties  of  Highlanders  as 
exposed  themselves,  either  on  the  main  street,  or  elsewhere  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  fortress.  The  morning  being  calm  and  fair, 
the  effect  of  this  dropping  fire  was  to  invest  the  Castle  in 
wreaths  of  smoke,  the  edges  of  which  dissipated  slowly  in  the 
air,  while  the  central  veil  was  darkened  ever  and  anon  by  fresh 
clouds  poured  forth  from  the  battlements  ;  the  whole  giving, 
by  the  partial  concealment,  an  appearance  of  grandeur  and 
gloom,  rendered  more  terrific  when  Waverley  reflected  on  the 
cause  by  which  it  was  produced,  and  that  each  explosion  might 
ring  some  brave  man's  knell. 

Ere  they  approached  the  city,  the  partial  cannonade  had 
wholly  ceased.  Balmawhapple,  however,  having  in  his  recol- 
lection the  unfriendy  greeting  which  his  troop  had  received 
from  the  battery  of  Stirling,  had  apparently  no  wish  to  tempt 
the  forbearance  of  the  artillery  of  tlie  Castle.  He  therefore 
left  the  direct  road,  and  sweeping  considerably  to  the  south- 
ward, so  as  to  keep  out  of  the  range  of  the  cannon,  approached 
the  ancient  palace  of  Holyrood,  without  having  entered  the 
walls  of  the  city.  He  then  drew  up  his  men  in  front  of  that 
venerable  pile,  and  delivered  Waverley  to  the  custody  of  a 
guard  of  Highlanders,  whose  officer  conducted  him  into  the  in 
teriorof  the  building. 

A  long,  low,  and  ill-proportioned  gallery,  hung  with  pictures, 
affirmed  to  be  the  portraits  of  kings,  who,  if  they  ever  flourished 
at  all,  .'ived  several  hundred  years  before  the  invention  of  paint- 
ing in  oil  colors,  served  as  a  sort  of  guard  chamber,  or  vestibuleg 


242  WAVER  LEY. 

to  the  apartments  which  the  adventurous  Charles  Edward  novj 
occupied  in  the  palace  of  his  ancestors.  Officers,  both  in  the 
Highland  and  Lowland  garb,  passed  and  re-passed  in  haste,  or 
loitered  in  the  hall,  as  if  waiting  for  orders.  Secretaries  were 
engaged  in  making  out  passes,  musters,  and  recurns.  All 
seemed  busy,  and  earnestly  intent  upon  something  of  impor- 
tance ;  but  Waverley  was  suffered  to  remain  sea:ed  in  the  re- 
cess of  a  window  unnoticed  by  any  one,  in  anxious  reflection 
upon  the  crisis  of  his  fate,  which  seemed  now  rapidly  ap 
preaching. 


CHAPTER  FORTIETH. 

AN   OLD  AND   A   NEW   ACQUAINTANCE. 

While  he  was  deep  sunk  in  his  reverie,  the  rustle  of  tar- 
tans was  heard  behind  him,  a  friendly  arm  clasped  his  shoul- 
der, and  a  friendly  voice  exclaimed, 

"Said  the  Highland  prophet  sooth?  Or  must  second  sight 
go  for  nothing  ?  " 

Waverley  turned,  and  was  warmly  embraced  by  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor.  "  A  thousand  welcomes  to  Holyrood,  once  more 
possessed  by  her  legitimate  sovereign  !  did  I  not  say  we  should 
prosper,  and  that  you  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Philis- 
tines if  you  parted  from  us  ?  " 

"  Dear  Fergus !  "  said  Waverley,  eagerly  returning  his  greet- 
ing. "It  is  long  since  I  have  heard  a  friend's  voice.  Where 
is  Flora  ?  " 

"  Safe,  and  a  triumphant  spectator  of  our  success." 

"  In  this  place  ?"  said  Waverley. 

"Ay,  in  this  city  at  least,"  answered  his  friend,  "and  you 
'shall  see  her ;  but  first  you  must  meet  a  friend  whom  you  little 
think  of,  who  has  been  frequent  in  his  inquiries  after  you." 

Thus  saying,  he  dragged  Waverley  by  the  arm  out  of  the 
guard-chamber,  and  ere  he  knew  where  he  was  conducted, 
Edward  found  himself  in  a  presence-room  fitted  up  with  some 
attempt  at  royal  state. 

A  young  man,  wearing  his  own  fair  hair,  distinguished  by 
the  dignity  of  his  mien  and  the  noble  expression  of  his  well- 
formed  and  regular  features,  advanced  out  of  a  circle  of  military 
gentlemen  and  Highland  chiefs,  bv  whom  he  was  surrounded 


IVAVERLEY. 


243 


In  his  easy  and  graceful  manners,  Waverley  afterwards  thought 
he  could  have  discovered  his  high  birth  and  rank,  although  the 
star  on  his  breast,  and  the  embroidered  garter  at  his  knee,  had 
not  appeared  as  its  indications. 

"Let  me  present  to  your  Royal  Highness,"    said  Fergus, 

bowing  profoundly 

"  The  descendant  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  loyal  fam- 
ilies in  England,"  said  the  yo;:ng  Chevalier,  interrupting  him. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  for  interrupting  you,  my  dear  Mac-Ivor, 
but  no  master  of  ceremonies  is  necessary  to  present  a  Waverley 
to  a  Stuart." 

Thus  saying,  he  extended  his  hand  to  Edward  with  the  ut- 
most courtesy,  who  could  not,  had  he  desired  it,  have  avoided 
rendering  him  the  homage  which  seemed  due  to  his  rank,  and 
was  certainly  the  right  of  his  birth.  "  I  am  sorry  to  understand, 
Mr.  Waverley,  that,  owing  to  circumstances  which  have  been  as 
yet  but  ill  explained,  you  have  suffered  some  restraint  among 
my  followers  in  Perthshire,  and  on  your  march  here  ;  but  we 
are  in  such  a  situation  that  we  hardly  know  our  friends,  and  I 
am  even  at  this  moment  uncertain  whether  I  can  have  the 
pleasure  of  considering  Mr.  Waverley  as  among  mine." 

He  then  paused  for  an  instant ;  but  before  Edward  could 
adjust  a  suitable  reply,  or  even  arrange  his  ideas  as  to  its  pur- 
port, the  Prince  took  out  a  paper,  and  then  proceeded :  "  I 
should  indeed  have  no  doubts  upon  this  subject,  if  I  could 
trust  to  this  proclamation,  set  forth  by  the  friends  of  the  Elec- 
tor of  Hanover,  in  which  they  rank  Mr.  Waverley  among  the 
nobility  and  gentry  who  are  menaced  with  the  pains  of  high- 
treason  for  loyalty  to  their  legitimate  sovereign.  But  I  desire 
to  gain  no  adherents  save  from  affection  and  conviction ;  and 
if  Mr.  Waverley  inclines  to  prosecute  his  journey  to  the  south, 
or  to  join  the  forces  of  the  Elector,  he  shall  have  my  passport 
and  free  permission  to  do  so  ;  and  I  can  only  regret  that  my 
present  power  will  not  extend  to  protect  him  against  the  prob- 
able consequences  of  such  a  measure. — But,"  continued  Charles 
Edward,  after  another  short  pause,  "  if  Mr.  Waverley  should, 
like  his  ancestor,  Sir  Nigel,  determine  to  embrace  a  cause 
which  has  little  to  recommend  it  but  its  justice,  and  follow  a 
prince  who  throws  himself  upon  the  affections  of  his  people  to 
recover  the  throne  of  his  ancestors,  or  perish  in  the  attempt, 
I  can  only  say,  that  among  these  nobles  and  gentlemen  he  will 
find  worthy  associates  in  a  gallant  enterprise,  and  will  follow  a 
master  wlio  may  be  unfortunate,  but^  I  tru'^t,  will  never  he  un- 
grateful," 


f44  WAVERLEY, 

The  politic  Chieftain  of  the  race  of  Ivor  knew  his  advantage 
in  introducing  Waverley  to  this  personal  interview  with  the 
royal  adventurer.  Unaccustomed  to  the  address  and  manners 
of  a  polished  court,  in  which  Charles  was  eminently  skilful,  his 
words  and  his  kindness  penetrated  the  heart  of  our  hero,  and 
easily  outweighed  all  prudential  motives.  To  be  thus  personally 
solicited  for  assistance  by  a  prince,  whose  form  and  manners,  as 
well  as  the  spirit  which  he  displayed  in  this  singular  enterprise, 
answered  his  ideas  of  a  hero  of  romance  ;  to  be  courted  by  him 
in  the  ancient  halls  of  his  paternal  palace,  recovered  by  the 
sword  which  he  was  already  bending  towards  other  conquests, 
gave  Edward,  in  his  own  eyes,  the  dignity  and  importance  which 
he  had  ceased  to  consider  as  his  attributes.  Rejected,  slan- 
dered, and  threatened  upon  the  one  side,  he  was  irresistibly  at- 
tracted to  the  cause  which  the  prejudices  of  education,  and  the 
political  principles  of  his  family,  had  already  recommended  as 
the  most  just.  These  thoughts  rushed  through  his  mind  like  a 
torrent,  sweeping  before  them  every  consideration  of  an  oppo- 
site tendency, — the  time,  besides,  admitted  of  no  deliberation, 
— and  Waverley,  kneeling  to  Charles  Edward,  devoted  his  heart 
and  sword  to  the  vindication  of  his  rights  ! 

The  Prince  (for,  although  unfortunate  in  the  faults  and 
follies  of  his  forefathers,  we  shall  here,  and  elsewhere,  give  him 
the  title  due  to  his  birth)  raised  Waverley  from  the  ground,  and 
embraced  him  with  an  expression  of  thanks  too  warm  not  to  be 
genuine.  He  also  thanked  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  repeatedly  for 
having  brought  him  such  an  adherent,  and  presented  Waverley 
to  the  various  noblemen,  chieftains,  and  officers  who  were  about 
his  person,  as  a  young  gentleman  of  the  highest  hopes  and  pros- 
pects, in  whose  bold  and  enthusiastic  avowal  of  his  cause  they 
might  see  an  evidence  of  the  sentiments  of  the  English  families 
of  rank  at  this  important  crisis. *^'^  Indeed  this  was  a  point  much 
doubted  among  the  adherents  of  the  house  of  Stuart ;  and  as  a 
well-founded  disbelief  in  the  co-operation  of  the  English  Jaco- 
bites, kept  many  Scottish  men  of  rank  from  his  standard,  and 
diminished  the  courage  of  those  who  had  joined  it,' nothing 
could  be  more  seasonable  for  the  Chevalier  than  the  open  dec- 
laration in  his  favor  of  the  representatives  of  the  house  of 
Waverley-Honour,  so  long  known  as  cavaliers  and  royalists 
This  Fergus  had  foreseen  from  the  beginning.  He  really  loved 
Waverley,  because  their  feelings  and  projects  never  thwarted 
each  other ;  he  hoped  to  see  him  united  with  Flora,  and  he  re- 
joiced that  they  were  effectually  engaged  in  the  same  cause. 
But,  as  we  before  hinted,  he  aJso  exuhed  as  a  politician  in  be^ 


WAVERLEY. 


24S 


holding  secured  to  his  party  a  partisan  of  such  consequence  \ 
and  he  was  far  from  being  insensible  to  the  personal  importance 
which  he  himself  gained  with  the  Prince,  from  having  so  mate 
rially  assisted  in  making  the  acquisition. 

Charles  Edward,  on  his  part,  seemed  eager  to  show  his  at- 
tendants the  value  which  he  attached  to  his  new  adherent,  by 
entering  immediately,  as  in  confidence,  uj^on  the  circumstances 
of  his  situation.  "  You  have  been  secluded  so  much  from  in- 
telligence, Mr.  Waverley,  from  causes  of  which  I  am  but  indis- 
tinctly informed,  that  I  presume  you  are  even  yet  unacquainted 
wirii  the  important  particulars  of  my  present  situation.  You 
have,  however,  heard  of  my  landing  in  the  remote  district  ol 
Moidart,  with  only  seven  attendants,  and  of  the  numerous  chiefs 
and  clans  whose  loyal  enthusiasm  at  once  placed  a  solitary  ad- 
venturer at  the  head  of  a  gallant  army.  You  must  also,  1  think, 
have  learned,  that  the  connnander-in-chief  of  the  Hanoverian 
Elector,  Sir  John  Cope,  marched  into  the  Highlands  at  the 
head  of  a  numerous  and  well-appointed  military  force,  with  the 
intention  of  giving  us  battle,  but  that  his  courage  failed  him 
when  we  were  w'ithin  three  hours'  march  of  each  other,  so  that 
he  fairly  gave  us  the  slip,  and  marched  northward  to  Aberdeen, 
leaving  the  Low  Country  open  and  undefended.  Not  to  lose 
so  favorable  an  opportunity,  I  marched  on  to  this  metropolis, 
driving  before  me  two  regiments  of  horse,  Gardiner's  and  Ham- 
ilton's, who  had  threatened  to  cut  to  pieces  every  Highlander 
that  should  venture  to  pass  Stirling ;  and  while  discussions 
were  carrying  forward  among  the  magistracy  and  citizens  of 
Edinburgh,  whether  they  should  defend  themselves  or  surren- 
der, my  good  friend  Lochiel  (laying  his  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  that  gallant  'and  accomplished  chieftain)  saved  them  the 
trouble  of  farther  deliberation,  by  entering  the  gates  with  five 
hundred  Camerons.  Thus  far,  therefore,  we  have  done  well ; 
but,  in  the  mean  while,  this  doughty  general's  nerves  being 
braced  by  the  keen  air  of  Aberdeen,  he  has  taken  shipping  for 
Dunbar,  and  I  have  just  received  certain  information  that  he 
landed  there  yesterday.  His  purpose  must  unquestionably  be 
to  march  towards  us  to  recover  possession  of  the  capital.  Now, 
there  are  two  opinions  in  my  council  of  war  :  one,  that  being 
inferior  probably  in  numbers,  and  certainly  in  discipline  and 
military  appointments,  not  to  mention  our  total  want  of  artillery, 
and  the  weakness  of  our  cavalry,  it  will  be  the  safest  to  fall 
back  towards  the  mountains,  and  there  protract  the  war  until 
fresh  succors  arrive  from  France,  and  the  whole  body  of  the 
Highland  clans  shall  have  taken  arms  in  our  favor.     The  op' 


246  IVAVERLEY. 

posite  opinion  maintains  that  a  retrograde  movement,  in  oul 
circumstance,  is  certain  to  throw  utter  discredit  on  our  arms 
and  undertaking  ;  and,  far  from  gaining  us  new  partisans,  will 
be  the  means  of  disheartening  those  who  have  joined  our  stand- 
ard. The  officers  who  use  these  last  arguments,  among  whom 
is  your  friend  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  maintain,  that  if  the  Highland- 
ers are  strangers  to  the  usual  discipline  of  Europe,  the  soldiers 
whom  they  are  to  encounter  are  no  less  strangers  to  their  pe- 
culiar and  formidable  mode  of  attack  ;  that  the  attachment  and 
courage  of  the  chiefs  and  gentlemen  are  not  to  be  doubted ; 
and  that  as  they  will  be  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy,  their  clans- 
men will  as  surely  follow  them  ;  in  fine,  that  having  drawn  the 
sword,  we  should  throw  away  the  scabbard,  and  trust  our  cause 
to  battle  and  to  the  God  of  battles.  Will  Mr.  Waverley  favor 
us  with  his  opinion  in  these  arduous  circumstances  ?  " 

Waverley  colored  high  betwixt  pleasure  and  modesty  at  the 
distinction  implied  in  this  question,  and  answered,  with  equal 
spirit  and  readiness,  that  he  could  not  venture  to  offer  an  opin- 
ion as  derived  from  militar}'  skill,  but  that  the  counsel  would 
be  far  the  most  acceptable  to  him  w^hich  should  first  afford  him 
an  opportunity  to  evince  his  zeal  in  his  Royal  Highness's 
service. 

"  Spoken  like  a  Waverley !  "  answered  Charles  Edward  ; 
"  and  that  you  may  hold  a  rank  in  some  degree  corresponding 
to  your  name,  allow  me,  instead  of  the  captain's  commission 
which  you  have  lost,  to  offer  you  the  brevet  rank  of  major  in 
my  service,  with  the  advantage  of  acting  as  one  of  my  aids-de^ 
camp  until  you  can  be  attached  to  a  regiment,  of  which  I  hope 
several  will  be  speedily  embodied." 

"  Your  Royal  Highness  will  forgive  me,"  answered  Waverley, 
(for  his  recollection  turned  to  Balmawhapple  and  his  scanty 
troop),  "  if  I  decline  accepting  any  rank  until  the  time  and 
place  where  I  may  have  interest  enough  to  raise  a  sufficient 
body  of  men  to  make  my  command  useful  to  your  Royal  High- 
ness's service.  In  the  mean  while,  I  hope  for  your  permission 
to  serve  as  a  volunteer  under  my  friend  Fergus  Mac-Ivor." 

"  At  least,"  said  the  Prince,  who  was  obviously  pleased  with 
this  proposal,  "  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  arming  you  after  thi 
Highland  fashion."  With  these  words,  he  unbuckled  the  broad- 
sword which  he  wore,  the  belt  of  which  was  plated  with  silver, 
and  the  steel  basket-hilt  richly  and  curiously  inlaid.  *'The 
blade,"  said  the  Prince,  "  is  a  genuine  Andrea  Ferrara ;  it  has 
been  a  sort  of  heir-loom  in  our  family  ;  but  I  am  convinced  I 
put  it  into  better  hands  than  my  own,  and  will  add  to  it  pistols 


miI'A-A\Z£V 


247 


of  the  same  workmanship.— Colonel  Mac-Ivor,  you  must  have 
much  to  say  to  your  friend  ;  I  will  detain  you  no  longer  from 
your  private  conversation,  but  remember,  we  expect  you  both 
to  attend  us  in  the  evening.  It  may  be  perhaps  the  last  night 
we  may  enjoy  in  these  halls,  and  as  we  go  to  the  field  with  a 
clear  conscience  we  will  spend  the  eve  of  battle  merrily." 

Thus  licensed,  the  Chief  and  Waverlcy  left  the  presence- 
chamber. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-FIRST. 

THE   MYSTERY    BEGINS   TO    BE   CLEARED   UP. 

*'  How  do  you  like  him  ?  "  was  Fergus's  first  question,  as 
they  descended  the  large  stone  staircase. 

"  A  prince  to  live  and  die  under,"  was  Waverley's  enthusi- 
astic answer. 

"  I  knew  you  would  think  so  when  you  saw  him,  and  I  in- 
tended you  should  have  met  earlier,  but  was  prevented  by  your 
sprain.  And  yet  he  has  his  foibles,  or  rather  he  has  difficult 
cards  to  play,  and  his  Irish  officers,'^'*  who  are  much  about  him, 
are  but  sorry  advisers, — they  cannot  discriminate  among  the 
numerous  pretensions  that  are  set  up.  Would  you  think  it — I 
have  been  obliged  for  the  present  to  suppress  an  Earl's  patent, 
granted  for  services  rendered  ten  years  ago,  for  fear  of  exciting 

the  jealousy,   forsooth,  of  C and  M .     But  you  were 

very  right,  Edward,  to  refuse  the  situation  of  aide-de-camp. 
There  are  two  vacant,  indeed,  but  Clanronald  and  Lochiel,  and 
almost  all  of  us,  have  requested  one  for  young  Aberchallader, 
and  the  Lowlanders  and  the  Irish  party  are  equally  desirous  to 

have  the  other  for  the  Master  of  F .     Now,  if  either  of  these 

candidates  were  to  be  superseded  in  your  favor,  you  would 
make  enemies.  And  then  I  am  surprised  that  the  Prince 
should  have  offered  you  a  majority,  when  he  knows  very  well 
that  nothing  short  of  lieutenant-colonel  will  satisfy  others,  who 
cannot  bring  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  to  the  field.  '  But 
patience,  cousin,  and  shuffle  the  cards  ! '  It  is  all  very  well  for 
the  present,  and  we  must  have  you  regularly  equipped  for  the 
evening  in  your  new  costume  ;  for,  to  say  truth,  your  outwar<i 
man  is  scarce  fit  for  a  court." 


J  ^8  li^AVERLEV. 

*'  Why,"  said  Waverley,  looking  at  his  soiled  dress,  "mj 
shooting  jacket  has  seen  service  since  we  parted  ;  but  that  prob- 
ably, you,  my  friend,  know  as  well  or  better  than  I." 

"  You  do  my  second-sight  too  much  honor,"  said  Fergus. 
*'  We  were  so  busy,  first  with  the  scheme  of  giving  battle  to 
Cope,  and  afterward  with  our  operations  in  the  Lowlands,  that 
I  could  only  give  general  directions  to  such  of  our  people  as 
were  left  in  Perthshire  to  respect  and  protect  you,  should  you 
come  in  their  way.  But  let  me  hear  the  full  story  of  your  ad- 
ventures, for  they  have  reached  us  in  a  very  partial  and  muti- 
lated manner." 

Waverley  then  detailed  at  length  the  circumstances  with 
which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted,  to  which  Fergus 
listened  with  great  attention.  By  this  time  they  had  reached 
the  door  of  his  quarters,  which  he  had  taken  up  in  a  small 
paved  court,  retiring  from  the  street  called  the  Canongate,  at 
the  house  of  a  buxom  widow  of  forty,  who  seemed  to  smile  very 
graciously  upon  the  handsome  young  Chief,  she  being  a  person 
with  whom  good  looks  and  good  humor  were  sure  to  secure  an 
interest,  whatever  might  be  the  party's  political  opinions. 
Here  Callum  Beg  received  them  with  a  smile  of  recognition. 
"  Callum,"  said  the  Chief,  "  call  Shemus  an  Snachad  "  (James 
of  the  Needle).  This  w-as  the  hereditary  tailor  of  Vich  Ian 
Vohr.  "  Shemus,  Mr.  Waverley  is  to  wear  the  cath  dath, 
(battle  color,  or  tartan  ;)  his  trews  must  be  ready  in  four  hours. 
You  know  the  measure  of  a  well-made  man  :  tv/o  double  nails 
to  the  small  of  the  leg  " — 

"  Eleven  from  haunch  to  heel,  seven  round  the  waist — I 
give  your  honor  leave  to  hang  Shemus,  if  there's  a  pair  of 
sheers  in  the  Highlands  that  has  a  baulder  sneck  than  hers 
ain  at  the  aimadh  an  truais  "  (shape  of  the  trews). 

"  Get  a  plaid  of  Mac-Ivor  tartan,  and  sash,"  continued  the 
Chieftain,  "  and  a  blue  bonnet  of  the  Prince's  pattern,  at  Mr. 
Mouat's  in  the  Crames.  My  she'  green  coat,  with  silver  lace 
and  silver  buttons,  will  fit  him  exactl}',  and  I  have  never  worn 
it.  Tell  Ensign  Maccombich  to  pick  out  a  handsome  target 
from  among  mine.  The  Prince  has  given  Mr.  Waverley  broad- 
sword and  pistols,  I  will  furnish  him  with  a  dirk  and  purse ; 
add  but  a  pair  of  low-heeled  shoes,  and  then,  my  dear  Edward, 
(turning  to  him)  you  will  be  a  complete  son  of  Ivor."^ 

These  necessary  directions  given,  the  Chieftain  resumed 
the  subject  of  Waverley's  adventures.  "  It  is  plain,"  he  said, 
"  that  you  have  been  in  the  custody  of  Donald  Bean  Lean. 
Vou  must  know  that  when  I  marched  away  my  clan  to  join  the 


n^AVEJ^LEY. 


24^ 


Prince,  I  laid  my  injunctions  on  that  worthy  member  of  society 
to  perform  a  certain  piece  of  service,  which  done,  he  was  to 
join  me  with  all  the  force  he  could  muster.  But  instead  of 
doing  so,  the  gentleman,  finding  the  coast  clear,  thought  it 
better  to  make  war  on  his  own  account,  and  has  scoured  the 
country,  plundering,  I  believe,  both  friend  and  foe,  under  pre 
tence  of  levying  blackmail,  sometimes  as  if  by  my  authority, 
ftnd  sometimes  (and  be  cursed  to  his  consummate  impudence) 
m  his  own  great  name  !  Upon  my  honor,  if  I  live  to  see  the 
cairn  of  Benmore  again,  I  shall  be  tempted  to  hang  that  fellow  ! 
I  recognize  his  hand  particularly  in  the  mode  of  your  rescue  from 
triat  canting  rascal  Gilfillan,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  Donald 
himself  played  the  part  of  the  pedlar  on  that  occasion  ;  but  how 
he  should  not  have  plundered  you  or  put  you  to  ransom,  or  availed 
himself  in  some  way  or  other  of  your  captivity  for  his  own 
advantage  passes  my  judgment." 

*'  When,  and  how  did  you  hear  the  intelligence  of  my  con- 
finement ?  "  asked  Waverley. 

"  Ihe  Prince  himself  told  me,"  said  Fergus,  "  and  inquired 
very  minutely  into  your  history.  He  then  mentioned  yow 
being  at  that  moment  in  the  power  of  one  of  our  northei»i 
parties — you  know  I  could  not  ask  him  to  explain  particulars  — 
and  requested  my  opinion  about  disposing  of  you.  I  recom- 
mended that  you  should  be  brought  here  as  a  prisoner,  because 
I  did  not  wirih  to  prejudice  you  farther  with  the  English  govern- 
ment, in  case  you  pursued  your  purpose  of  going  southward. 
I  knew  nothmg,  you  must  recollect,  of  the  charge  brought 
against  you  of  aiding  and  abetting  high  treason,  which  I  pre- 
sume, had  some  share  in  changing  your  original  plan.  That 
sullen,  good-for-nothing  brute,  Balmawhapple,  was  sent  to  escort 
you  from  Doune,  with  what  he  calls  his  troop  of  horse.  As  to 
his  behavior,  in  addition  to  his  natural  antipathy  to  everything 
that  resembles  a  gentleman,  I  presume  his  adventure  with 
Bradwardine  rankles  in  his  recollection,  the  rather  that  I  dare 
say  his  mode  of  telling  that  story  contributed  to  the  evil  reports 
which  reached  your  quondam  regiment." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Waverley;  "but  now  surely,  my  dear 
Fergus,  you  may  find  time  to  tell  me  something  of  Flora," 

"  Why,"  replied  Fergus,  "  I  can  only  tell  you  that  she  is 
well,  and  residing  for  the  present  with  a  relation  in  this  city.  I 
thought  it  better  she  should  come  here,  as  since  our  success  a 
good  many  ladies  of  rank  attend  our  military  court  ;  and  I 
assure  you,  that  there  is  a  sort  of  consequence  annexed  to  the 
near  relative  of  such  a  person  as  Flora  Mac-Ivor,  and  where 


jjo  WAVERLEY. 

there  is  such  a  justling  of  claims  and  requests,  a  man  must  use 
every  fair  means  to  enhance  his  importance." 

'rhere  was  something  in  this  last  sentence  which  grated  04 
Waverley's  feelings.  He  could  not  bear  that  Flora  should  be 
considered  as  conducing  to  her  brother's  preferment,  by  the 
admiration  which  she  must  unquestionably  attract ;  and  although 
it  was  in  strict  correspondence  with  many  points  of  Fergus's 
character,  it  shocked  him  as  selfish,  and  unworthy  of  his  sister's 
high  mind  and  his  own  independent  pride.  Fergus,  to  whom 
such  manoeuvres  were  familiar,  as  to  one  brought  up  at  the 
French  court,  did  not  observe  the  unfavorable  impression  which 
he  had  unwarily  made  upon  his  friend's  mind,  and  conchided 
by  saying,  "that  they  could  hardly  see  Flora  before  the  even- 
ing, when  she  would  be  at  the  concert  and  ball,  with  which  the 
Prince's  party  were  to  be  entertained.  She  and  I  had  a  quarrel 
about  her  not  appearing  to  take  leave  of  you.  I  am  unwilling 
to  renew  it,  by  soliciting  her  to  receive  you  this  morning  ;  and 
perhaps  my  doing  so  might  not  only  be  ineffectual,  but  prevent 
your  meeting  this  evening." 

While  thus  conversing,  Waverley  heard  in  the  court,  before 
the  windows  of  the  parlor,  a  well-known  voice.  "  I  aver  to 
you,  my  worthy  friend,"  said  the  speaker,  "  that  it  is  a  total 
dereliction  of  military  discipline ;  and  were  you  not  as  it  were  a 
tyro,  your  purpose  would  deserve  strong  reprobation.  For  a 
prisoner  of  war  is  on  no  account  to  be  coerced  with  fetters,  or 
debinded  in  ergastulo,  as  would  have  been  the  case  had  you 
put  this  gentlemen  into  the  pit  of  the  peel-house  at  Ealma- 
whapple.  I  grant,  indeed,  that  such  ia  prisoner  may  for  security 
be  coerced  in  carcere,  that  is,  in  a  public  prison." 

The  growling  voice  of  Balmawhapple  was  heard  as  taking 
leave  in  displeasure,  but  the  word,  '  land-louper,'  alone  was 
distinctly  audible.  He  had  disappeared  before  Waverley 
reached  the  house,  in  order  to  greet  the  worthy  Baron  of  Brad- 
wardine.  The  uniform  in  which  he  was  now  attired,  namely,  a 
blue  coat,  with  gold  lace,  a  scarlet  waistcoat  and  breeches,  and 
immense  jack-boots,  seemed  to  have  added  fresh  stiffness  and 
rigidity  to  his  tall,  perpendicular  figure ;  and  the  consciousness 
of  military  command  and  authority  had  increased,  in  the  same 
proportion,  the  self-im.portance  of  his  demeanor,  and  the  dog- 
matism of  his  conversation. 

He  received  Waverley  with  his  usual  kindness,  and  ex- 
pressed immediate  anxiety  to  hear  an  explanation  of  the  cir 
CHmstances  attending  the  loss  of  his  commission  in  Gardiner^S 
dragoons  ;  "  not,"  he  said,  "  that  he  had  the  least  appreheur 


WAVE  RLE  y 


251 


Bion  of  his  young  friend  having  done  aught  which  could  merit 
such  ungenerous  treatment  as  he  had  received  from  govern- 
ment, but  because  it  was  right  and  seemly  that  the  Baron  of 
Bradwardine  should  be,  in  point  of  trust  and  in  point  of  power 
tuUy  able  to  refute  all  calumnies  against  the  heir  of  Waverley- 
Honour  whom  he  had  so  much  right  to  regard  as  his  own  son." 

Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  who  had  now  joined  them,  went  hastily 
over  the  circumstances  of  Waverley's  story,  and  concluded 
with  the  flattering  reception  he  had  met  from  the  young  Cheva- 
lier. The  Baron  listened  in  silence,  and  at  the  conclusion 
shook  Waverley  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  congratulated  him 
upon  entering  the  service  of  his  lawful  Prince.  "  For,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  although  it  has  been  justly  held  in  all  nations  a 
matter  of  scandal  and  dishonor  to  infrmge  the  sacramentiifn 
miliiare,  and  that  whether  it  was  taken  by  each  soldier  singly, 
whilk  the  Romans  denominated  per  conjiirationem,  or  by  one 
soldier  in  name  of  the  rest ;  yet  no  one  ever  doubted  that  the 
allegiance  so  sworn  was  discharged  by  the  difnissio,  or  dis- 
charging of  a  soldier,  whose  case  would  be  as  hard  as  that  of 
colliers,  salters,  and  other  adscripti  glebce,  or  slaves  of  the  soil, 
were  it  to  be  accounted  otherwise.  This  is  something  like  the 
brocard  expressed  by  the  learned  Sanchez  in  his  work  Dejure- 
j'urando,  which  you  have  questionless  consulted  upon  this 
occasion.  As  for  those  who  have  calumniated  you  by  leasing- 
making,  I  protest  to  Heaven  I  think  they  have  justly  incurred 
the  penalty  of  the  Metnnonia  lex,  also  called  Lex  Rhemnia, 
which  is  prelected  upon  by  Tullius  in  his  oration  In  Verrem. 
I  should  have  deemed,  however,  Mr.  Waverley,  that  before 
destining  yourself  to  any  special  service  in  the  army  of  the 
Prince,  ye  might  have  inquired  what  rank  the  old  Bradwardine 
held  there,  and  whether  he  would  not  have  been  peculiarly 
happy  to  have  had  your  services  in  the  regiment  of  horse  which 
he  is  now  about  to  levy." 

Edward  eluded  this  reproach  by  pleading  the  necessity  of 
giving  an  immediate  answer  to  the  Prince's  proposal,  and  his 
uncertainty  at  the  moment  whether  his  friend  the  Baron  was 
with  the  army,  or  engaged  upon  service  elsewhere. 

This  punctilio  being  settled,  Waverley  made  inquiry  after 
Miss  Bradwardine,  and  was  informed  she  had  come  to  Edin- 
burgh with  Flora  Mac-Ivor,  under  guard  of  a  party  of  the 
Chieftain's  men.  This  step  was  indeed  necessary,  Tully-Veolan 
having  become  a  very  unpleasant,  and  even  dangerous  place 
of  residence  for  an  unprotected  young  lady,  on  account  of  its 
vicinity  to  the  Highlands,  and  also  to  one  or  two  large  villages^ 


ts» 


WAVERLEY. 


which,  from  aversion  as  much  to  the  Caterans  as  zeal  foi  pres 
bytery,  had  declared  themselves  on  the  side  of  government 
and  formed  irregular  bodies  of  partisans,  who  had  frequent 
skirmishes  with  the  mountaineers,  and  sometimes  attacked  the 
houses  of  the  Jacobite  gentry  in  the  braes,  or  frontier  betwixt 
the  mountain  and  plain. 

"  I  would  propose  to  you,"  continued  the  Baron,  "  to  walk 
as  far  as  my  quarters  in  the  Luckenbooths,  and  to  admire  in 
your  passage  the  High  Street,  whilk  is  beyond  a  shadow  ot 
dubitation,  finer  than  any  street,  whether  in  London  or  Paris. 
But  Rose,  poor  thing,  is  sorely  discomposed  with  the  firing  of 
the  Castle,  though  I  have  proved  to  her  from  Blondel  and 
Coehorn,  that  it  is  impossible  a  bullet  can  reach  these  build- 
ings ;  and,  besides,  I  have  it  in  charge  from  his  Royal  High- 
ness to  go  to  the  camp,  or  leaguer  of  our  army,  to  see  that  the 
men  do  conclajnare  vasa,  that  is,  truss  up  their  bag  and  bag- 
gage for  to-morrow's  march." 

"  That  will  be  easily  done  by  most  of  us,"  said  Mac-Ivor, 
laughing. 

"  Craving  your  pardon,  Colonel  Mac-Ivor,  not  quite  so 
easily  as  ye  seem  to  opine.  I  grant  most  of  your  folk  left  the 
Highlands,  expedited  as  it  were,  and  free  from  the  incumbrance 
of  baggage,  but  it  is  unspeakable  the  quantity  of  useless 
sprechery  which  they  have  collected  on  their  march.  I  saw 
one  fellow  of  yours  (craving  your  pardon  once  more)  with  a 
pier-glass  upon  his  back." 

"  Ay,"  said  Fergus,  still  in  good  humor,  "  he  would  have 
told  you,  if  you  had  questioned  him,  a  ganging  foot  is  aye  get' 
ting. — But  come,  my  dear  Baron,  you  know  as  well  as  I,  that  a 
hundred  Uhlans,  or  a  single  troop  of  Schmirschitz's  Pandors, 
would  make  more  havoc  in  a  country  than  the  knight  of  the 
mirror  and  all  the  rest  ot  our  clans  put  together." 

"And  that  is  very  true  likewise,"  replied  the  Baron  "  they 
are,  as  the  heathen  author  ?>^ys,  ferociores  iti  aspectu,  mitiores  in 
actti,  of  a  horrid  and  grim  visage,  but  more  benign  in  demeanor 
than  their  physiognomy  or  aspect  might  infer. — But  I  stand 
here  talking  to  you  two  youngsters,  when  I  should  be  in  the 
King's  Park." 

"  But  you  will  dine  with  Waverley  and  me  on  your  return  ? 
I  assure  you.  Baron,  though  I  can  live  like  a  Highlander  when 
needs  must,  I  remember  my  Paris  education,  and  understand 
perfectly y<?/r<r  la  meiUeure  chere.^'' 

"  And  wha  the  de'il  doubts  it,"  quoth  the  Baron,  laughing, 
"  when  ye  bring  only  the  cookery,  and  the  gude  tf»t«i  musi 


IVAVERLEV,  ^53 

furnish  the  materials  ? — Weel,  I  have  some  business  in  the  toun 
too ;  but  I'll  join  you  at  three,  if  the  vivers  can  tarry  so  long." 
So  saying,  he  took  leave  of  his  friends,  and  went  to  look  aftei 
the  charge  which  had  been  assigned  him. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-SECOND. 
A  soldier's  dinner. 

James  of  the  Needle  was  a  man  of  his  word,  when  whiskey 
was  no  party  to  the  contract ;  and  upon  this  occasion  Galium 
Beg,  who  still  thought  himself  in  Waverley's  debt,  since  he  had 
declined  accepting  compensation  at  the  expense  of  mine  Host 
of  the  Candlestick's  person,  took  the  opportunity  of  discharg- 
ing the  obligation,  by  mounting  guard  over  the  hereditary  tailor 
of  Sliochd  nan  Ivor;  and,  as  he  expressed  himself,  "  targed 
him  tightly  "  till  the  finishing  of  the  job.  To  rid  himself  of 
this  restraint,  Shemus's  needle  flew  through  the  tartan  like 
lightning ;  and  as  the  artist  kept  chanting  some  dreadful  skir- 
mish of  Fin  Macoul,  he  accomplished  at  least  three  stitches  to 
the  death  of  every  hero.  The  dress  was,  therefore,  soon  ready, 
for  the  short  coat  fitted  the  wearer,  and  the  rest  of  the  apparel 
required  little  adjustment. 

Our  hero  having  now  fairly  assumed  the  "  garb  of  old  Gaul," 
well  calculated  as  it  was  to  give  an  appearance  of  strength  to 
a  figure,  which,  though  tall  and  well-made,  was  rather  elegant 
than  robust,  I  hope  my  fair  readers  will  excuse  him  if  he  looked 
at  himself  in  the  mirror  more  than  once,  and  could  not  help 
acknowledging  that  the  reflection  seemed  that  of  a  very  hand- 
some young  fellow.  In  fact,  there  was  no  disguising  it.  Hi;* 
light-brown  hair, — for  he  wore  no  periwig,  notwithstanding  the 
universal  fashion  of  the  time, — became  the  bonnet  which  sur- 
mounted it.  His  person  promised  firmness  and  agility,  to 
which  the  ample  folds  of  the  tartan  added  an  air  of  dignity. 
His  blue  eye  seemed  of  that  kind, 

Which  melted  in  love, and  which  kindled  in  war; 

and  an  air  of  bashfulness,  which  was  in  reality  the  afifect  of 
want  of  habitual  intercourse  with  the  world,  gave  interest  ta 
his  features,  without  injuring  their  grace  or  intelligence. 


f54  WAVERLEV. 

"  He's  a  pratty  man — a  very  pratry  man,"  said  Evan  Dhu 
(now  Ensign  Maccombich)  to  Fergus's  buxom  landlady. 

"  He's  vera  weel,"  said  the  Widow  Flockhart,  "  but  no 
naething  sae  weel-far'd  as  your  colonel,  ensign." 

*'  I  wasna  comparing  them,"  quoth  Evan,  "  nor  was  1 
speaking  about  his  being  weel-favored  ;  but  only  that  Mr. 
Waverley  looks  clean-made  and  deliver,  and  like  a  proper  lad 
o'  his  quarters,  that  will  not  cry  barley  in  a  brulzie.  And,  in- 
deed, he's  gleg  aneuch  at  the  broadsword  and  target.  I  hae 
played  wi'  him  mysel  at  Glennaquoich,  and  sae  has  Vich  Ian 
Vohr,  often  of  a  Sunday  afternoon." 

"  Lord  forgie  ye,  Ensign  Maccombich,"  said  the  alarmed 
Presbvterian ;  "  I'm  sure  the  Colonel  wad  never  do  the  like  o' 
that !  •' 

"  Hout !  hout !  Mrs.  Flockhart,"  replied  the  Ensign  "  we're 
young  blude,  ye  ken  ;  and  young  saints,  auld  de'ils." 

"  But  will  ye  fight  wi'  Sir  John  Cope  the  morn,  Ensign 
Maccombich  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Flockhart  of  her  guest. 

"  Troth  I'se  ensure  him,  an'  he'll  bide  us,  Mrs.  Flockhart," 
replied  the  Gael. 

"  And  will  ye  face  thae  tearing  chields,  the  dragoons,  Ensign 
Maccombich  ?  "  again  inquired  the  landlady. 

"  Claw  for  claw,  as  Conan  said  to  Satan,  Mrs.  Flockhart, 
and  the  deevil  tak  the  shortest  nails." 

"  And  will  the  Colonel  venture  on  the  bagganets  himsel  ? " 

"  Ye  may  swear  it,  Mrs.  Flockhart ;  the  very  first  man  will 
he  be,  by  Saint  Phedar." 

"  Merciful  goodness  !  and  if  he's  killed  amang  the  red- 
coats !  "  exclaimed  the  soft-hearted  widow. 

"  Troth,  if  it  should  sae  befall,  Mrs.  Flockhart,  I  ken  ane 
that  will  no  be  living  to  weep  for  him.  But  we  maun  a'  live 
the  day,  and  have  our  dinner  ;  and  there's  Vich  Ian  Vohr  has 
packed  his  dorlach,  and  Mr.  Waverley's  wearied  wi'  majoring 
yonder  afore  the  muckle  pier-glass,  and  that  gray  auld  stooi 
carle,  the  Baron  o'  Bradwardine,  that  shot  young  Ronald  of 
Ballankeiroch,  he's  coming  down  the  close  wi'  that  droghling 
coghling  bailie  body  they  ca'  Macwhupple,  just  like  the  Laird 
o'  Kittlegab's  French  cook,  wi'  his  turnspit  doggie  trindling 
ahint  him,  and  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  gled,  my  bonny  dow  ;  sae 
bid  Kate  set  on  the  broo',  and  do  ye  put  on  your  pinners,  for 
ye  ken  Vich  Ian  Vohr  winna  sit  down  till  ye  be  at  the  head  o' 
the  table ; — and  dinna  forget  the  pint  bottle  o'  brandy,  my 
woman." 

This  hint  produced  dinner.    Mrs.  Flockhart,  smiling  in 


PTAVERLSy.  255 

Aer  weeds  like  the  sun  through  a  mist,  took  the  head  of  the 
table,  thinking  within  herself,  perhaps,  that  she  cared  not 
how  long  the  rebellion  lasted,  that  brought  her  into  com- 
pany so  much  above  her  usual  associates.  She  was  sup- 
ported by  Waverley  and  the  Baron,  with  the  advantage  of  the 
Chieftain  vis-a-vis.  The  men  of  peace  and  of  war.  that  is, 
Bailie  Macwheeble  and  Ensign  Maccombich,  after  many  pro- 
found conges  to  their  superiors  and  each  other,  took  their 
places  on  each  side  of  the  Chieftain.  Their  fare  was  excellent, 
time,  place,  and  circumstances  considered,  and  Fergus's  spirits 
were  extravagantly  high.  Regardless  of  danger,  and  sanguine 
from  temper,  youth,  and  ambition,  he  saw  in  imagination  all 
his  prospects  crowned  with  success,  and  was  totally  Indifferent 
to  the  probable  alternative  of  a  soldier's  grave.  The  Baron 
apologized  slightly  for  br/nging  Macwheeble.  They  had  been 
providing,  he  said,  for  the  expenses  of  the  campaign.  "  And, 
by  my  faith,"  said  the  old  man,  "  as  I  think  this  will  be  my 
last,  so  I  just  end  where  I  began — I  hae  evermore  found  the 
sinews  of  war,  as  a  learned  author  calls  the  caisse  militare, 
mair  difficult  to  come  by  than  either  its  flesh,  blood,  or  bones."* 

"  What !  have  you  raised  our  only  efficient  body  of  cavalry, 
and  got  ye  none  of  the  louis-d'ors  out  of  the  doutelle  to  help 
you  ?  "  '''^ 

"  No,  Glennaquoich  ;  cleverer  follows  have  been  before  me." 

"That's  a  scandal,"  said  the  young  Highlander  ;  "  but  you 
will  share  what  is  left  of  my  subsidy :  It  will  save  you  an  anx- 
ious thought  to-night,  and  will  be  all  one  to-morrow,  for  we 
shall  all  be  provided  for  one  way  or  other  before  the  sun  sets." 

Waverley,  blushing  deeply,  but  with  great  earnestness, 
pressed  the  same  request.  "  I  thank  ye  baith,  my  good  lads," 
said  the  Baron,  "  but  I  will  not  infringe  upon  your  peculium. 
Bailie  Macwheeble  has  provided  the  sum  whicli  is  necessar)'." 

Here  the  Bailie  shifted,  and  fidgetted  about  in  his  seat, 
and  appeared  extremely  uneasy.  At  length,  after  several  pre- 
liminary hems,  and  much  tautological  expression  of  his  devo- 
tion to  his  honor's  service,  by  night  or  day,  living  or  dead,  he 
be^n  to  insinuate,  "  that  the  Banks  had  removed  a'  their 
ready  cash  into  the  Castle  ; — that,  nae  doubt,  Sandie  Goldie, 
the  silversmith,  would  do  mickle  for  his  honor ;  but  there  was 
little  time  to  get  the  wadset  made  out ;  and,  doubtless,  if  his 
honor  Glennaquoich,  or  Mr.  Wauverley,  could  accommodate" — ■ 

"  Let  me  hear  of  no  such  nonsense,  sir,"  said  the  Baron, 
in  a  tone  which  rendered  Macwheeble  mute,  "  but  proceed  as 
we  accorded  befor°  dinner,  if  it  be  your  wish  to  remain  in  mjf 
service." 


IjO  WAVERLEY 

To  this  peremptory  order,  the  Bailie,  though  he  felt  as  if 
condemned  to  suffer  a  transfusion  of  blood  from  his  own  veins 
into  those  of  the  Baron,  did  not  presume  to  make  any  reply. 
After  fidgetting  a  little  while  longer,  however,  he  addressed 
himself  to  Glennaquoich,  and  told  him,  if  his  honor  had  mair 
ready  siller  than  was  sufficient  for  his  occasions  in  the  field,  he 
could  put  it  out  at  use  for  his  honor  in  safe  hands,  and  at 
great  profit,  at  this  time.  At  this  proposal,  Fergus  laughed 
heartily,  and  answered,  when  he  had  recovered  his  breath,— 
"  Many  thanks,  Bailie  ;  but  you  must  know  it  is  a  general 
custom  among  us  soldiers  to  make  our  landlady  our  banker.— 
Here,  Mrs.  Flockhart,"  said  he,  taking  four  or  five  broad 
pieces  out  of  a  well-filled  purse,  and  tossing  the  purse  itself, 
with  its  remaining  contents,  into  her  apron,  "  these  will  serve 
my  occasions  ;  do  you  take  the  rest :  be  my  banker  if  I  live, 
and  my  executor  if  I  die  ;  but  take  care  to  give  something  to 
the  Highland  cailliachs  '^^  that  shall  cry  the  coronach  loudest 
for  the  last  Vich  Ian  Vohr," 

"It  is  the  testanientnm  militare,''^  quoth  the  Baron,  "  whilk, 
amang  the  Romans,  was  privilegiate  to  be  nuncupative."  But 
the  soft  heart  of  Mrs.  Flockhart  was  melted  within  her  at  the 
Chieftain's  speech  ;  she  set  up  a  lamentable  blubbering,  and 
positively  refused  to  touch  the  bequest,  which  Fergus  was 
therefore  obliged  to  resume.  "Well,  then,"  said  the  Chief, 
"  if  I  fall,  it  will  go  to  the  grenadier  that  knocks  my  brains  out, 
and  I  shall  take  care  he  works  hard  for  it." 

Bailie  Macwheeble  was  again  tempted  to  put  in  his  oar, 
for  where  cash  was  concerned  he  did  not  willingly  remain 
silent.  "  Perhaps  he  had  better  carry  the  gowd  to  Miss  Mac- 
Ivor,  in  case  of  mortality,  or  accidents  of  war.  It  might  tak 
the  form  of  a  tnortis  causa  donation  in  the  young  ledie's  favor, 
and  wad  cost  but  the  scrape  of  a  pen  to  mak  it  out." 

"  The  young  lady,"  said  Fergus,  "  should  such  an  event 
happen,  will  have  other  instters  to  think  of  than  these  wretched 
louis  d'ors." 

"  True — undeniable — there's  nae  doubt  o'  that ;  but  your 
honor  kens  that  a  full  sorrow  " 

"  Is  endurable  by  most  folks  more  easily  than  a  hungry  one  ? 
— True,  Bailie,  very  true  ;  and  I  believe  there  may  even  be 
some  who  would  be  consoled  by  such  a  reflection  for  the  loss 
of  the  whole  existing  generation  ;  but  there  is  a  sorrow  which 

knows  neither  hunger  nor  thirst  ;    and  poor  Flora  " He 

paused,  and  the  whole  company  sympathized  in  his  emotion. 

The  Baron's  thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  the  unprotected 


ti^AFERLEr. 


257 


Itate  of  his  daughter,  and  the  big  tear  came  to  the  veteran's 
eye.  "  If  I  fall,  Macwheeble,  you  have  all  my  papers,  and 
know  all  my  affairs ;  be  just  to  Rose.*' 

The  Bailie  was  a  man  of  earthly  mould  after  all,  a  good 
deal  of  dirt  and  dross  about  him  undoubtedly,  but  some  kindly 
and  just  feelings  he  had,  especially  where  the  Baron  or  his 
young  mistress  were  concerned.  He  set  up  a  lamentable  howl. 
"  If  that  doleful  day  should  come,  while  Duncan  Macwheeble 
had  a  boddle,  it  should  be  Miss  Rose's.  He  wald  scroll  for  a 
plack  the  sheet  or  she  ken'd  what  it  was  to  want ;  if  indeed  a' 
the  bonnie  baronie  o'  Bradwardine  and  Tully-Veolan,  with  the 
fortalice  and  manor-place  thereof  (he  kept  sobbing  and  whining 
at  every  pause)  tofts,  crofts,  mosses,  muirs — outfield,  infield, — 
buildings — orchards — dove-cots — with  the  right  of  net  and 
coble  in  the  water  and  loch  of  Veolan — tiends,  parsonage  and 
vicarage — annexis,  connexis — rights  of  pasturage — fuel,  feal, 
and  divot — parts,  pendicles,  and  pertinents  whatsoever — (here 
he  had  recourse  to  the  end  of  his  long  cravat  to  wipe  his  eyes, 
which  overflowed,  in  spite  of  him,  at  the  ideas  which  this  tech- 
nical jargon  conjured  up) — all  as  more  fully  described  in  the 
proper  evidents  and  titles  thereof — and  lying  within  the  parish 
of  Bradwardine  and  the  shire  of  Perth — if,  as  aforesaid,  they 
must  a'  pass  from  my  master's  child  to  Inch-Grabbit,  wha's  a 
whig  and  a  Hanoverian,  and  be  managed  by  his  doer,  Jamie 
Howie,  wha's  no  fit  to  be  a  birlieman,  let  be  a  bailie  " 

The  beginning  of  this  lamentation  really  had  something 
affecting,  but  the  conclusion  rendered  laughter  irresistible. 
"Nevermind,  Bailie,"  said  Ensign  Maccombich,  "for  the  gude 
auld  times  of  rugging  and  riving  (pulling  and  tearing)  are  come 
back  again,  an'  Sneckus  Mac-Snackus,  (meaning,  probably,  an- 
nexis, connexis,)  and  a'  the  rest  of  your  friends,  maun  gie  place 
to  the  largest  claymore." 

"  And  that  claymore  shall  be  ours.  Bailie,"  said  the  Chief- 
tain, who  saw  that  Macwheeble  looked  very  blank  at  this  inti- 
ination. 

"We'll  give  them  the  metal  our  mountain  affords, 

Lillibulero,  bullen  a  la, 
And  in  place  of  broad-pieces,  we'll  pay  with  broadswords, 

Lero,  lero,  &c. 
With  duns  and  with  debts  we  will  soon  clear  our  score, 

Lillibulero,  &c. 
For  the  man  that's  thus  paid  will  crave  payment  no  more, 

Lero,  lero,  Sc."' 

*But  come,  Bailie,  be  not  cast  down  ;  drink  your  wine  with 
a  joyous  heart ;  the  Baron  shall  return  safe  and  victorious  to 


f^8  WAVERLEY. 

Tully-Veolan,  and  unite  Killancureit's  lairdship  with  his  owt^ 
since  the  cowardly  half-bred  swine  will  not  turn  out  for  th# 
Prince  like  a  gentleman." 

"To  be  sure,  they  lie  maist  ewest,"  ^^  said  the  Bailie,  wip- 
ing his  eyes,  "  and  should  naturally  fa'  under  the  same  factory." 

"  And  I,"  proceeded  the  Chieftain,  "  shall  take  care  of  my- 
self  too ;  for  you  must  know,  I  have  to  complete  a  good  work 
here,  by  bringing  Mrs.  Flockhart  into  the  bosom  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  or  at  least  half  way,  and  that  is  to  your  episcopal 
meeting-house.  O  Baron  !  if  you  heard  her  fine  counter-tenoi 
admonishing  Kate  and  Matty  in  the  morning,  you,  who  under- 
stand music,  would  tremble  at  the  idea  of  hearing  her  shriek 
in  the  psalmody  of  Haddo's  Hole." 

**  Lord  forgie  you,  Colonel,  how  ye  rin  on  !  but  I  hope  youi 
honors  will  tak  tea  before  ye  gang  to  the  palace,  and  I  maun 
gang  and  mak  it  for  you." 

So  saying,  Mrs.  Flockhart  left  the  gentlemen  to  their  own 
conversation,  which,  as  might  be  supposed,  turned  chiefly  upon 
the  approaching  events  of  the  campaign. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-THIRD 

THE   BALL. 

Ensign  Maccombich  having  gone  to  the  Highland  camp 
upon  duty,  and  Bailie  Macwheeble  having  retired  to  digest  his 
dinner,  and  Evan  Dhu's  intimation  of  martial  law,  in  some 
blind  change-house,  Waverley,  with  the  Baron  and  the  Chief- 
tain, proceeded  to  Holyrood  House.  The  two  last  were  in  full 
tide  of  spirits,  and  the  Baron  rallied  in  his  way  our  hero  upon 
the  handsome  figure  which  his  new  dress  displayed  to  advan- 
tage. "  If  you  have  any  design  upon  the  heart  of  a  bonny 
Scotch  lassie,  I  would  premonish  you,  when  you  address  her, 
to  remember  and  quote  the  words  of  Virgilius  : — 

"  Nunc  insanos  amor  duri  me  Martis  in  armis, 
Tela  inter  media  atque  adversos  detinet  hostes ; " 

Whilk  verses  Robertson  of  Struan,  Chief  of  the  Clan  Donno- 
chy  (unless  the  claims  of  Lude  ought  to  be  preferred /r^"*/* 
kw^  has  thus  elegantly  rendered  : 

"  For  cruel  love  has  gartan'd  low  my  leg, 
And  clad  nv  hurdies  in  a  philabe£." 


WAVERLEY.  359 

Wthough,  indeed,  ye  wear  the  trews,  a  garment  whilk  I  approve 
maist  of  the  twa,  as  mair  ancient  and  seemly." 
"  Or  rather."  said  Fergus,  hear  my  song : 

*  She  wadna  hae  a  Lowland  laird, 

Nor  be  an  English  lady  ; 
But  she's  away  with  Duncan  Graeme, 

And  he's  rowed  her  in  his  plaidy.' " 

By  this  time  they  reached  the  palace  of  Holyrood,  and  were 
announced  respectively  as  they  entered  the  apartments. 

It  is  but  too  well-known  how  many  gentlemen  of  rank,  edu- 
cation, and  fortune,  took  a  concern  in  the  ill-fated  and  desperate 
undertaking  of  1745.  The  ladies  also  of  Scotland  very  gener- 
ally espoused  the  cause  of  the  gallant  and  handsome  young 
Prince,  who  threw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  his  countrymen, 
rather  like  a  hero  of  romance  than  a  calculating  politician.  It  ♦ 
is  not  therefore  to  be  wondered  that  Edward,  who  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  the  solemn  seclusion  of  Waverley- 
Honour,  should  have  been  dazzled  at  the  liveliness  and  ele- 
gance of  the  scene  now  exhibited  in  the  long-deserted  halls  of 
the  Scottish  palace.  The  accompaniments,  indeed,  fell  short 
of  splendor,  being  such  as  the  confusion  and  hurry  of  the  time 
admitted  ;  still,  however,  the  general  effect  was  striking,  and, 
the  rank  of  the  company  considered,  might  well  be  called 
brilliant. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  lover's  eye  discovered  the  object 
of  his  attachment.  Flora  Mac-Ivor  was  in  the  act  of  returning 
to  her  seat,  near  the  top  of  the  room,  with  Rose  Bradwardine 
by  her  side.  Among  much  elegance  and  beauty,  they  had  at- 
tracted a  great  degree  of  the  public  attention,  being  certainly 
two  of  the  handsomest  women  present.  The  Prince  took  much 
notice  of  both,  particularly  of  Flora,  with  whom  be  danced,  a 
preference  which  she  probably  owed  to  her  foreign  education, 
and  command  of  the  P'rench  and  Italian  languages. 

When  the  bustle  attending  the  conclusion  of  the  dance  per- 
mitted, Edward,  almost  intuitively,  followed  Fergus  to  the  place 
where  Miss  Mac-Ivor  was  seated.  The  sensation  of  hope,  with 
which  he  had  nursed  his  affection  in  absence  of  the  beloved 
object,  seemed  to  vanish  in  her  presence,  and,  like  one  striving 
to  recover  the  particulars  of  a  forgotten  dream,  he  would  have 
given  the  world  at  that  moment  to  have  recollected  the  grounds 
on  which  he  had  founded  expectations  which  now  seemed  so 
delusive.  He  accompanied  Fergus  with  downcast  eyes,  tin- 
gling ears,  and  the  feelings  of  the  criminal,  who,  while  the  melan* 
choly  cart  moves  slowly  through  the  crowds  that  have  assembled 


t6o  tVAVERLEY. 

to  behold  his  execution,  receives  no  clear  sensation  either  front 
the  noise  which  fills  his  ears,  or  the  tumult  on  which  he  casts 
his  wandering  look. 

Flora  seemed  a  little — a  very  little — affected  and  discom- 
posed at  his  approach,  "  I  bring  you  an  adopted  son  of  Ivor," 
said  Fergus. 

"  And  I  receive  him  as  a  second  brother,"  replied  Flora. 

There  was  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  word,  which  would  have 
escaped  every  ear  but  one  that  was  feverish  with  apprehension. 
It  was  however  distinctly  marked,  and,  combined  with  her  whole 
tone  and  manner,  plainly  intimated,  "  I  will  never  think  of  Mr. 
Waverley  as  a  more  intimate  connection."  Edward  stopped, 
bowed,  and  looked  at  Fergus,  who  bit  his  lip,  a  movement  of 
anger,  which  proved  that  he  also  had  put  a  sinister  interpreta- 
tion on  the  reception  which  his  sister  had  given  his  friend. 
"  This,  then,  is  an  end  of  my  day-dream  !  "  Such  was  Waver- 
ley's  first  thought,  and  it  was  so  exquisitely  painful  as  to  banish 
from  his  cheek  ever)-^  drop  of  blood. 

"  Good  God  !  "  said  Rose  Bradwardine,  "  he  has  not  yet 
recovered  ! " 

These  words,  which  she  uttered  with  great  emotion,  were 
overheard  by  the  Chevalier  himself,  who  stepped  hastily  for- 
ward, and,  taking  Waverley  by  the  hand,  inquired  kindly  after 
bis  health,  and  added,  that  he  wished  to  speak  with  him.  By 
a  strong  and  sudden  effort,  which  the  circumstances  rendered 
indispensible,  Waverley  recovered  himself  so  far  as  to  follow 
the  Chevalier  in  silence  to  a  recess  in  the  apartment. 

Here  the  Prince  detained  him  some  time,  asking  various 
questions  about  the  great  tory  and  Catholic  families  of  England, 
their  connections,  their  influence,  and  the  state  of  their  affections 
towards  the  house  of  Stuart.  To  these  queries  Edward  could 
not  at  any  time  have  given  more  than  general  answers,  and  it 
may  be  supposed  that,  in  the  present  state  of  his  feelings,  his 
responses  were  indistinct  even  to  confusion.  The  Chevalier 
smiled  once  or  twice  at  the  incongruity  of  his  replies,  but  con- 
tinued the  same  style  of  conversation,  although  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  occupy  the  principal  share  of  it,  until  he  perceived 
that  Waverley  had  recovered  his  presence  of  mind.  It  is  prob- 
able that  this  long  audience  was  partly  meant  to  further  the 
idea  which  the  Prince  desired  should  be  entertained  among  his 
followers,  that  Waverley  was  a  character  of  political  influence. 
But  it  appeared,  from  his  concluding  expressions,  that  he  had  a 
different  and  good-natured  motive,  personal  to  our  hero,  foi 
prolonging  the  conference.     "  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation^" 


WAVERLEY.  361 

he  said,  *'  of  boasting  of  my  own  discretion  as  a  lady's  confidant 
You  see,  Mr.  Waverley,  that  I  know  all,  and  I  assure  you  I  am 
deeply  interested  in  the  affair.  But,  my  good  young  friend,  you 
must  put  a  more  severe  restraint  upon  your  feelings.  There 
are  many  here  whose  eyes  can  see  as  clearly  as  mine,  but  the 
prudence  of  whose  tongues  may  not  be  equally  trusted." 

So  saying,  he  turned  easily  away,  and  joined  a  circle  of 
officers  at  a  few  paces  distance,  leaving  Waverley  to  meditate 
upon  his  parting  expression, 'which,  though  not  intelligible  to 
him  in  its  whole  purport,  was  sufficiently  so  in  the  caution  which 
the  last  word  recommended.  Making  therefore  an  effort  to 
show  himself  worthy  of  the  interest  which  his  new  master  had 
expressed,  by  instant  obedience  to  his  recommendation,  he 
walked  up  to  the  spot  where  Flora  and  Miss  Bradwardine  were 
still  seated,  and  having  made  his  compliments  to  the  latter,  he 
succeeded,  even  beyond  his  own  expectation,  in  entering  into 
conversation  upon  general  topics. 

If,  my  dear  reader,  thou  hast  ever  happened  to  take  post- 
horses  at  ,  or  at ,  (one  at  least  of  which  blanks,  or 

more,  probably  both,  you  will  be  able  to  fill  up  from  an  inn  near 
your  own  residence,)  you  must  have  observed,  and  doubtless 
with  sympathetic  pain,  the  reluctant  agony  with  which  the  poor 
jades  at  first  apply  their  galled  necks  to  the  collars  of  the  har- 
ness. But  when  the  irresistible  arguments  of  the  post-boy  have 
prevailed  upon  them  to  proceed  a  mile  or  two,  they  will  become 
callous  to  the  first  sensation  ;  and  being  warm  in  the  hartiess, 
as  the  said  post-boy  may  term  it,  proceed  as  if  their  withers  were 
altogether  unriing.  This  simile  so  much  corresponds  with  th^ 
state  of  Waverley's  feelings  in  the  course  of  this  memorable 
evening,  that  I  prefer  it,  (especially  as  being,  I  trust,  wholly 
original)  to  any  more  splendid  illustration,  with  which  Byshe's 
Art  of  Poetry  might  supply  me. 

Exertion,  like  virtue,  is  its  own  reward  ;  and  our  hero  had, 
moreover,  other  stimulating  motives  for  persevering  in  a  display 
of  affected  composure  and  indifference  to  Flora's  obvious  un- 
kindness.  Pride,  which  supplies  its  caustic  as  a  useful,  though 
severe  remedy  for  the  wounds  of  affection,  came  rapidly  to  his 
aid.  Distinguished  by  the  favor  of  a  Prince,  destined,  he  had 
room  to  hope,  to  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  revolution  which 
awaited  a  miglity  kingdom  ;  excelling  probably  in  mental  acquire- 
ments, and  equalling  at  least,  in  personal  accomplishments, 
most  of  the  noble  and  distinguished  persons  with  whom  he  was 
now  ranked  ;  young,  wealthy  and  high-born, — could  he,  or_ough| 
he,  to  droop  beneath  the  frown  of  a  capricious  beauty? 


t62  WAVER  LEY. 

O  nymph,  unrelenting  and  cold  as  thou  ar^ 
My  bosom  is  proud  as  thine  own." 

With  the  feeling  expressed  in  these  beautiful  lines  (whick  hon 
ever  were  not  then  written)  ^^  Waverley  determined  upon  cor> 
vincing  Flora  that  he  was  not  to  be  depressed  by  a  rejection, 
in  which  his  vanity  whispered  that  perhaps  she  did  her  own 
prospects  as  much  injustice  as  his.  And,  to  aid  this  change  of 
feeling,  there  lurked  the  secret  and  unacknowledged  hope,  that 
she  might  learn  to  prize  his  affection  more  highly,  when  she  did 
not  conceive  it  to  be  altogether  within  her  own  choice  to  attract 
or  repulse  it.  There  was  a  mystic  tone  of  encouragement,  also, 
in  the  Chevalier's  words,  though  he  feared  they  only  referred  to 
the  wishes  of  Fergus  in  favor  of  a  union  between  him  and  his 
sister.  But  the  whole  circumstances  of  time,  place,  and  inci- 
dent, combined  at  once  to  awaken  his  imagination,  and  to  call 
upon  him  for  a  manly  and  a  decisive  tone  of  conduct,  leaving  to 
fate  to  dispose  of  the  issue.  Should  he  appear  to  be  the  only 
sad  and  disheartened  on  the  eve  of  battle,  how  greedily  would 
the  tale  be  commented  upon  by  the  slander  which  had  been 
already  but  too  busy  with  his  fame  ?  Never,  never,  he  inter- 
nally resolved,  shall  my  unprovoked  enemies  possess  such  an 
advantage  over  my  reputation. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  mixed  sensations,  and  cheered 
at  times  by  a  smile  of  intelligence  and  approbation  from  the 
Prince  as  he  passed  the  group,  Waverley  exerted  his  powers  of 
fancy,  animation,  and  eloquence,  and  attracted  the  general  ad- 
miration of  the  company.  The  conversation  gradually  assumed 
the  tone  best  qualified  for  the  display  of  his  talents  and  acqui- 
sitions.  The  gayety  of  the  evening  was  exalted  in  character, 
rather  than  checked,  by  the  approaching  dangers  of  the  morrow. 
All  nerves  were  strung  for  the  future,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
present.  This  mood  of  mind  is  highly  favorable  for  the  exercise 
of  the  powers  of  imagination,  for  poetr}',  and  for  that  eloquence 
which  is  allied  to  poetry.  Waverley,  as  we  have  elsewhere 
observed,  possessed  at  times  a  wonderful  flow  of  rhetoric ;  and, 
on  the  present  occasion,  he  touched  more  than  once  the  higher 
notes  of  feeling,  and  then  again  ran  off  in  a  wild  voluntary  of 
fanciful  mirth.  He  was  supported  and  excited  by  kindred  spir- 
its, who  felt  the  same  impulse  of  mood  and  time  ;  and  even  those 
of  more  cold  and  calculating  habits  were  hurried  along  by  the 
torrent.  Many  ladies  declined  the  dance,  which  still  went  for- 
ward, and,  under  various  pretences,  joined  the  party  to  which 
the  "  handsome  young  Englishman  "  seemed  to  have  attached 
himself.     He  was  presented  "o  several  of  the  first  rank,  and 


WAVE  RLE  y.  263 

his  manners,  which  for  the  present  were  altogether  free  from 
the  bashful  restraint  by  which,  in  a  moment  of  less  excitation, 
they  were  usually  clouded,  gave  universal  delight. 

Flora  Mac-Ivor  appeared  to  be  the  only  female  present  who 
regarded  him  with  a  degree  of  coldness  and  reserve ;  yet  even 
she  could  not  suppress  a  sort  of  wonder  at  talents,  which,  in 
the  course,of  their  acquaintance,  she  had  never  seen  displayed 
with  equal  brilliancy  and  impressive  effect.  I  do  not  know 
whether  she  might  not  feel  a  momentar}'-  regret  at  having  taken 
so  decisive  a  resolution  upon  the  addresses  of  a  lover,  who 
seemed  fitted  so  well  to  fill  a  high  place  in  the  highest  stations 
of  society.  Certainly  she  had  hitherto  accounted  among  the 
incurable  deficiencies  of  Edward's  disposition,  the  niauvaise 
honte,  which,  as  she  had  been  educated  in  the  first  foreign  cir- 
cles, and  was  little  acquainted  with  the  shyness  of  English 
manners,  was,  in  her  opinion,  too  nearly  related  to  timidity  and 
imbecility  of  disposition.  But  if  a  passing  wish  occurred  that  Wa- 
verley  could  have  rendered  himself  uniformly  thus  amiable  and 
attractive,  its  influence  was  momentary ;  for  circumstances 
had  arisen  since  they  met,  which  rendered  in  her  eyes,  the 
resolution  she  had  formed  respecting  him,  final  and  irrevocable. 

With  opposite  feelings.  Rose  Bradwardine  bent  her  whole 
soul  to  listen.  She  felt  a  secret  triumph  at  the  public  tribute 
paid  to  one,  whose  merit  she  had  learned  to  prize  too  early  and 
too  fondly.  Without  a  thought  of  jealousy,  without  a  feeling  of 
fear,  pain,  or  doubt,  and  undisturbed  by  a  single  selfish  consid- 
eration, she  resigned  herself  to  the  pleasure  of  observing  the 
general  murmur  of  applause.  When  Waverley  spoke,  her  ear 
was  exclusively  filled  with  his  voice  ;  when  others  answered, 
her  eye  took  its  turn  of  observation,  and  seemed  to  watch  his 
reply.  Perhaps  the  delight  which  she  experienced  in  the  course 
of  that  evening,  though  transient,  and  followed  by  much  sorrow, 
was  in  its  nature  the  most  pure  and  disinterested  which  the 
human  mind  is  capable  of  enjoying. 

"  Baron,"  said  the  Chevalier,  "  I  would  not  trust  my  mis- 
tress in  the  company  of  your  young  friend.  He  is  really,  though 
perhaps  somewhat  romantic,  one  of  the  most  fascinating  young 
men  whom  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  And  by  my  honor,  sir,"  replied  the  Baron,  "  the  lad  can 
sometimes  be  as  dowff  as  a  sexagenery  like  myself.  If  your 
Royal  Highness  had  seen  him  dreaming  and  dozing  about  the 
banks  of  Tully-Veolan  like  a  hypochondriac  person,  or,  as 
Burton's  Anatomia  hath  it,  a  phrenesiac  or  lethargic  patient, 
you  would  wonder  where  he  hath  sae  suddenly  acquired  all  this 
fine  sprack  festivity  and  jocularity." 


2  64  WAVERLEY. 

"  Truly,"  said  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  "  I  think  it  can  only  bt 
the  inspiration  of  the  tartans  ;  for,  though  Waverley  be  always 
a  young  fellow  of  sense  and  honor,  I  have  hitherto  often  found 
him  a  very  absent  and  inattentive  companion." 

"We  are  the  more  obliged  to  him,"  said  the  Prince,  "for 
having  reserved  for  this  evening  qualities  which  even  such  in 
timate  friends  had  not  discovered. — But  come,  gentlemen,  the 
night  advances,  and  the  business  of  to-morrow  must  be  early 
thought  upon.  Each  take  charge  of  his  fair  partner,  and  honor 
a  small  refreshment  with  your  company." 

He  led  the  way  to  another  suite  of  apartments,  and  assumed 
the  seat  and  canopy  at  the  head  of  a  long  range  of  tables,  with 
an  air  of  dignity  mingled  with  courtesy,  which  well  became  his 
high  birth  and  lofty  pretensions.  An  hour  had  hardly  flown 
away  when  the  musicians  played  the  signal  for  parting,  so  well 
known  in  Scotland.™ 

"  Good  night  then,"  said  the  Chevalier,  rising  ;  "  Good 
night,  and  joy  be  with  you  ! — Good-night,  fair  ladies,  who  have 
so  highly  honored  a  proscribed  and  banished  Prince. — Good- 
night, my  brave  friends  ;  may  the  happiness  we  have  this  even- 
ing experienced  be  an  omen  of  our  return  to  these  our  paternal 
halls,  speedily  and  in  triumph,  and  of  many  and  many  future 
meetings  of  mirth  and  pleasure  in  the  palace  of  Holyrood  !  " 

When  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  afterwards  mentioned  this 
adieu  of  the  Chevalier,  he  never  failed  to  repeat  in  a  melan- 
choly tone, 

"  Audiit,  et  voti  Phoebus  succedere  partem 
Mente  dedit ;  partem  volucres  dispersit  in  auras  ; 

"  which,"  as  he  added,  "  is  weel  rendered  into  English  metre 
by  my  friend  Bangour : 

As  half  the  prayer  wi'  Phoebus  grace  did  find, 
The  t'otherfhalf  he  whistled  down  the  wind." 


CHAPTER  FORTY-FOURTH. 

THE   MARCH. 

The  conflicting  passions  and  exhausted  feelings  of  Waverley 
had  resigned  him  to  late  but  sound  repose.  He  was  dreaming 
of  Glennaquoich,  and  had  transferred  to  the  halls  of  Ian  nan 


tVAVERLEY,  265 

Chaistel  the  festal  train  which  so  lately  graced  those  of  Holy< 
rood.  The  pibroch  too  was  distinctly  heard  ;  and  this  at  least 
was  no  delusion,  for  the  "  proud  step  of  the  chief  piper  "  of  the 
*'  chlain  Mac-Ivor "  was  perambulating  the  court  before  the 
door  of  his  Chieftain's  quarters,  and,  as  Mrs.  Flockhart,  appar- 
ently no  friend  to  his  minstrelsy,  was  pleased  to  observe, 
*'  garring  the  very  stane-and-lime  wa's  dingle  wi'  his  screech- 
ing." Of  course  it  soon  became  too  powerful  for  Waverley's 
dream,  with  which  it  had  at  first  rather  harmonized. 

The  sound  of  Callum's  brogues  in  his  apartment  (for  Mac- 
Ivor  had  again  assigned  Waverley  to  his  care)  was  the  next 
note  of  parting.  "  Winna  yere  honor  bang  up  ?  Vich  Ian 
Vohr  and  ta  Prince  are  awa'  to  the  lang  green  glen  ahint  the 
clachran,  tat  they  ca'  the  King's  Park,''^  and  mony  ane's  on  his 
ain  shanks  the  day  that  will  be  carried  on  ither  folks  ere  night." 

Waverley  sprung  up,  and,  with  Callum's  assistance  and  in- 
structions, adjusted  his  tartans  in  proper  costume.  Callum  told 
him  also,  "  tat  his  leather  dorlach  wi'  the  lock  on  her  was  come 
frae  Doune,  and  she  was  awa'  again  in  the  wain  wi'  Vich  Ian 
Vohr's  walise." 

By  this  periphasis  Waverley  readily  apprehended  his  port- 
manteau was  intended.  He  thought  upon  the  mysterious 
packet  of  the  maid  of  the  cavern,  which  seemed  always  to  es- 
cape him  when  within  his  very  grasp.  But  this  was  no  time  for 
indulgence  of  curiosity  ;  and  having  declined  Mrs.  Flockhart's 
compliment  of  a  mornings  i.e.,  a  matutinal  dram,  being  probably 
the  only  man  in  the  Chevalier's  army  by  whom  such  a  courtesy 
would  have  been  rejected,  he  made  his  adieus,  and  departed 
with  Callum. 

"  Callum,"  said  he,  as  they  proceeded  down  a  dirty  close 
to  gain  the  southern  skirts  of  the  Canongate,  "  what  shall  I 
do  for  a  horse  ?  " 

"  Ta  de'il  ane  ye  maun  think  o',"  said  Callum.  "Vich  Ian 
Vohr's  marching  on  foot  at  the  head  o'  his  kin,  (not  to  say  ta 
Prince,  wha  does  the  like,)  wi'  his  target  on  his  shoulder,  and 
ye  maun  e'en  be  neighbor-like.' 

"  And  so  I  will,  Callum, — give  me  my  target ; — so,  there  we 
are  fixed.     How  does  it  look  .''  " 

"  Like  the  bra'  Highlander  tat's  painted  on  the  board  afore 
the  mickle  change-house  they  ca'  Luckie  Middlemass's,"  an 
swered  Callum  ;  meaning,  I  must  observe,  a  high  compliment, 
for,  in  his  opinion,  Luckie  Middlemass's  sign  was  an  exquisite 
specimen  of  art.  Waverley,  however,  not  feeling  the  full  force 
of  this  polite  simile,  asked  him  no  farther  questions. 


t66  WAVERLEY. 

Upon  extricating  themselves  from  the  mean  and  d'lrtj 
suburbs  of  the  metropolis,  and  emerging  into  the  open  air, 
Waverley  felt  a  renewal  both  of  health  and  spirits,  and  turned 
his  recollection  with  firmness  upon  the  events  of  (he  preceding 
evening,  and  with  hope  and  resolution  towards  those  of  the 
approaching  day. 

When  he  had  surmounted  a  small  craggy  eminence,  called 
St.  Leonard's  Hill,  the  King's  Park,  or  the  hollow  between 
the  mountain  of  Arthur's  Seat,  and  the  rising  grounds  on  which 
the  southern  part  of  Edinburgh  is  now  built,  lay  beneath  him, 
and  displayed  a  singular  and  animating  prospect.  It  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  army  of  the  Highlanders,  now  in  the  act  of  pre- 
paring for  their  march.  Waverley  had  already  seen  something 
of  the  kind  at  the  hunting-match  which  he  attended  with  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor,  but  this  was  on  a  scale  of  much  greater  magnitude, 
and  incomparably  deeper  interest.  The  rocks,  which  formed 
the  background  of  the  scene,  and  the  very  sk\-  itself,  rang  with 
the  clang  of  the  bagpipers,  summoning  forth,  each  with  his  ap- 
propriate pibroch,  his  chieftain  and  clan.  The  mountaineers, 
rousing  themselves  from  their  couch  under  the  canopy  of 
heaven,  with  the  hum  and  bustle  of  a  confused  and  irregular 
multitude,  like  bees  alarmed  and  arming  in  their  hives,  seemed 
to  possess  all  the  pliability  of  movement  fitted  to  execute  mili- 
tary manoeuvres.  Their  motions  appeared  spontaneous  and 
confused,  but  the  result  was  order  and  regularity ;  so  that  a 
general  must  have  praised  the  conciusion,  though  a  martinet 
might  have  ridiculed  the  method  by  which  it  was  attained. 

The  sort  of  complicated  medley  created  by  the  hasty  ar- 
rangements of  the  various  clans  under  their  respective  banners, 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  into  the  order  of  march,  was  in  itself 
a  gay  and  lively  spectacle.  They  had  no  tents  to  strike,  hav- 
ing generally,  and  by  choice,  slept  upon  the  open  field,  although 
the  autumn  was  now  waning,  and  the  nights  began  to  be  frosty. 
For'a  little  space,  while  they  were  getting  into  order,  there  was 
exhibited  a  changing,  fluctuating,  and  confused  appearance  of 
waving  tartans  and  floating  plumes,  and  of  banners  displaying 
the  proud  gathering  word  of  Clanronald,  Ganion  Coheriga — 
(gainsay  who  dares)  Loch-Sloy,  the  watchword  of  the  Mac- 
Farlanes ;  Forth  fortune,  and  fill  the  fetters,  the  motto  of  the 
Marquis  of  Tullibardine  ;  Bydand,  that  of  Lord  Lewis  Gordon  \ 
and  the  appropriate  signal  words  and  emblems  of  many  other 
chieftains  and  clans. 

At  length  the  mixed  and  wavering  multitude  arranged  them- 
selves into  a  riarrow  and  dusky  column  of  great  length,  stretch 


WAVERLEY.  267 

Ing  through  the  whole  extent  of  the  valley.  In  the  front  of 
the  column  the  standard  of  the  Chevalier  was  displayed,  bear- 
ing a  red  cross  upon  a  white  ground,  with  the  motto  Tandem 
Triumphans.  The  few  cavalry,  being  chiefly  Lowland  gentry, 
with  their  domestic  servants  and  retainers,  formed  the  advanced 
guard  of  the  army,  and  their  standards,  of  which  they  had 
rather  too  many  in  respect  of  their  numbers,  were  seen  waving 
upon  the  extreme  verge  of  the  horizon.  Many  horsemen  of 
this  body,  among  whom  Waverley  accidentally  remarked  Bal- 
mawhapple,  and  his  lieutenant,  J  inker  (which  last,  however, 
had  been  reduced,  with  several  others,  by  the  advice  of  the 
Baron  of  Bradwardine,  to  the  situation  of  what  he  called  re- 
formed officers,  or  reformadoes),  added  to  the  liveliness,  though 
by  no  means  to  the  regularity,  of  the  scene,  by  galloping  their 
.  "ses  as  fast  forward  as  the  press  would  permit,  to  join  their 
prope.  station  in  the  van.  The  fascinations  of  the  Circes  of 
the  High  o  "set,  and  the  potations  of  strength  with  which  they 
had  been  drenched  over  night,  had  probably  detained  these 
heroes  within  the  walls  of  Edinburgh  somewhat  later  than  was 
consistent  with  their  morning  duty.  Of  such  loiterers,  the 
prudent  took  the  longer  and  circuitous,  but  more  open  route, 
to  attain  their  place  in  the  march,  by  keeping  at  some  distance 
from  the  infantry  and  making  their  way  through  the  inclosures 
to  the  right,  at  the  expense  of  leaping  over  or  pulling  down 
the  dry-stone  fences.  The  irregular  appearance  and  vanishing 
of  these  small  parties  of  horsemen,  as  well  as  the  confusion 
occasioned  by  those  who  endeavored,  though  generally  without 
effect,  to  press  to  the  front  through  the  crowd  of  Highlanders, 
maugre  their  curses,  oaths,  and  opposition,  added  to  the  pic- 
turesque wildness  what  it  took  from  the  military  regularity  of 
the  scene. 

While  Waverley  gazed  upon  this  remarkable  spectacle, 
rendered  yet  more  impressive  by  the  occasional  discharge  of 
cannon-shot  from  the  Castle  at  the  Highland  guards  as  they 
were  withdrawn  from  its  vicinity  to  join  their  main  body,  Cal- 
lum,  with  his'*usual  freedom  of  interference,  reminded  him  that 
Vich  Ian  Vohr's  folk  were  nearly  at  the  head  of  the  column  of 
march,  which  was  still  distant,  and  that  "  they  would  gang  very 
fast  after  the  cannon  fired."  Thus  admonished,  Waverley 
walked  briskly  forward,  yet  often  casting  a  glance  upon  the 
darksome  clouds  of  warriors  who  were  collected  before  and 
beneath  him,  A  nearer  view,  indeed,  rather  diminished  the 
effect  impressed  on  the  mind  by  the  more  distant  appearance 
of  the  army.    The  leading  men  of  each  clan  were  well  armed 


268  WAVER  LEY. 

with  broadsword,  target,  and  fusee,  to  which  all  added  th$ 
dirk,  and  most  the  steel  pistol.  But  these  consisted  of  gentle- 
men, that  is,  relations  of  the  chief,  however  distant,  and  whc 
had  an  immediate  title  to  his  countenance  and  protection 
Finer  and  hardier  men  could  not  have  been  selected  out  o^ 
any  army  in  Christendom  ;  while  the  free  and  independem 
habits  which  each  possessed,  and  which  each  was  yet  so  well 
taught  to  subject  to  the  command  of  his  chief,  and  the  peculiai 
mode  of  discipline  adopted  in  Highland  warfare,  rendered 
them  equally  formidable  by  their  individual  courage  and  high 
spirit,  and  from  their  rational  conviction  of  the  necessity  of 
acting  in  unison,  and  of  giving  their  national  mode  of  attack 
the  fullest  opportunity  of  success. 

But,  in  a  lower  rank  to  these,  there  were  found  individuals 
of  an  inferior  description,  the  common  peasantry  of  the  High- 
land country,  who,  although  they  did  not  allow  themselves 
to  be  so  called,  and  claimed  often,  with  apparent  truth,  to  be 
of  more  ancient  descent  than  the  masters  whom  they  served, 
bore  nevertheless,  the  livery  of  extreme  penury,  being  indif- 
ferently accoutred,  and  worse  armed,  half-naked,  stinted  in 
growth,  and  miserable  in  aspect.  Each  important  clan  had 
some  of  those  Helots  attached  to  them  ; — thus,  the  Mac-Couls, 
though  tracing  their  descent  from  Comhal,  the  father  of  Finn 
or  Fingal,  were  a  sort  of  Gibeonites,  or  hereditar}'  servants  to 
the  Stuarts  of  Appine  ;  the  Macbeths,  descended  from  the  un- 
happy monarch  of  that  name,  were  subjects  to  the  Morays,  and 
clan  Donnochy,  or  Robertsons  of  Athole  ;  and  many  other 
examples  might  be  given,  were  it  not  for  the  risk  of  hurting 
any  pride  of  clanship  which  may  yet  be  left,  and  thereby  draw- 
ing a  Highland  tempest  into  the  shop  of  my  publisher.  Now 
these  same  Helots,  though  forced  into  the  field  by  the  arbitrar}' 
authority  of  the  chieftains  under  whom  they  hewed  wood  and 
drew  water,  were,  in  general,  very  sparingly  fed,  ill-dressed, 
and  worse  armed.  The  latter  circumstance  was  indeed  owing 
chiefly  to  the  general  disarming  act,  which  had  been  carried 
into  effect  ostensibly  through  the  whole  Highlands,  although 
most  of  the  chieftains  contrived  to  elude  its  influence  by  retain- 
ing the  weapons  of  their  own  immediate  clansmen,  and  deliver- 
ing  up  those  of  less  value,  which  they  collected  from  these 
inferior  satellites.  It  followed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that,  as 
we  have  already  hinted,  many  of  these  poor  fellows  were 
brought  to  the  field  in  a  very  wretched  condition. 

From  this  it  happened,  that,  in  bodies,  the  van  of  which 
were  admirably  well-armed  in  their  own  fashion,  the  rear  re« 


WAVERLEY.  269 

sembled  actual  banditti.  Here  was  a  pole-axe,  there  a  sword 
without  a  scabbard ;  here  a  gun  without  a  lock,  there  a  scythe 
set  straight  upon  a  pole  ;  and  some  had  only  their  dirks,  and 
bludgeons  or  stakes  pulled  out  of  hedges.  The  grmi,  un- 
combed, and  wild  appearance  of  these  men,  most  of  whom 
gazed  with  all  the  admiration  of  ignorance  upon  the  most  ordi- 
nary production  of  domestic  art,  created  surprise  in  the  Low- 
lands, but  it  also  created  terror.  So  little  was  the  condition 
of  the  Highlands  known  at  that  late  period,  that  the  character 
and  appearance  of  their  population,  while  thus  sallying  forth  as 
military  adventurers,  conveyed  to  the  south-country  Lowlanders 
as  much  surprise  as  if  an  invasion  of  African  negroes,  or  Es- 
quimaux Indians,  had  issued  forth  from  the  northern  mountains 
of  their  own  native  country.  It  cannot  therefore  be  wondered 
if  Waverley,  who  had  hitherto  judged  of  the  Highlanders  gen- 
erally, from  the  samples  which  the  policy  of  Fergus  had  from 
time  to  time  exhibited,  should  have  felt  damped  and  astonished 
at  the  daring  attempt  of  a  body  not  then  exceeding  four  thou- 
sand men,  and  of  whom  not  above  half  the  number,  at  the 
utmost,  were  armed,  to  change  the  fate,  and  alter  the  dynasty, 
of  the  British  kingdoms. 

As  he  moved  along  the  column,  which  still  remained 
stationary,  an  iron  gun,  the  only  piece  of  artillery  possessed  by 
the  army  which  meditated  so  important  a  revolution,  was  fired 
as  the  signal  of  march.  The  Chevalier  had  expressed  a  wish 
to  leave  this  useless  piece  of  ordnance  behind  him  ;  but  to  his 
surprise,  the  Highland  chiefs  interposed  to  solicit  that  it  might 
accompany  their  march,  pleading  the  prejudices  of  their  fol- 
lowers, who,  little  accustomed  to  artillery,  attached  a  degree  of 
absurd  importance  to  this  field-piece,  and  expected  it  would 
contribute  essentially  to  a  victory  which  they  could  only  owe  to 
*-heir  own  muskets  and  broadswords.  Two  or  three  French 
artillerymen  were  therefore  appointed  to  the  management  of 
this  military  engine,  which  was  drawn  along  by  a  string  of  High- 
land ponies,  and  was,  after  all,  only  used  for  the  purpose  of 
firing  signals.'^ 

No  sooner  was  its  voice  heard  upon  the  present  occasion, 
than  the  whole  line  was  in  motion.  A  wild  cry  of  joy  from  the 
advancing  battalions  rent  the  air,  and  was  then  lost  in  the 
shrill  clangor  of  the  bagpipes,  as  the  sound  of  these,  in  their 
turn,  was  partially  drowned  by  the  heavy  tread  of  so  many  men 
put  at  once  into  motion.  The  banners  glittered  and  shook  as 
they  moved  forward,  and  the  horse  hastened  to  occupy  their 
Station  as  the  advanced  guard,  and  to  push  on  reconnoitring 


C70  tVAVERLEY. 

parties  to  ascertain  and  report  the  motions  of  the  enemy.  They 
vanished  from  Waverley's  eye  as  they  wheeled  round  the  base 
of  Arthur's  Seat,  under  the  remarkable  ridge  of  basaltic  rocks 
which  fronts  the  little  lake  of  Duddingston. 

The  infantry  followed  in  the  same  direction,  regulating 
their  pace  by  another  body  which  occupied  a  road  more  to  the 
southward.  It  cost  Edward  some  exertion  of  activity  to  attair. 
the  place  which  Fergus's  follows  occupied  in  the  line  of  march. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-FIFTH. 

AN  INCIDENT  GIVES   RISE  TO  UNAVAILING  REFLECTIONS. 

When  Waverley  reached  that  part  of  the  column  which  was 
filled  by  the  clan  of  ]Mac-Ivor,  they  halted,  formed,  and  received 
him  with  a  triumphant  flourish  upon  the  bagpipes,  and  a  loud 
shout  of  the  men,  most  of  whom  knew  him  personally,  and 
were  delighted  to  see  him  in  the  dress  of  their  country  and  of 
their  sept.  "  You  shout,"  said  a  Highlander  of  a  neighboring 
clan  to  Evan  Dhu,  "  as  if  the  Chieftain  were  just  come  to  your 
head." 

'■'■Mar  e  Bran  is  e  a  brathair.  If  it  be  not  Bran,  it  is  Bran's 
brother,"  was  the  proverbial  reply  of  Maccombich." 

"  O,  then,  it  is  the  handsome  Sassenach  Duinhe-wassel,  that 
is  to  be  married  to  Lady  Flora  "i  " 

"That  may  be,  or  it  may  not  be;  and  it  is  neither  your 
matter  nor  mine,  Gregor." 

Fergus  advanced  to  embrace  the  volunteer,  and  afford  him 
a  warm  and  hearty  welcome  ;  but  he  thought  it  necessary  to 
apologize  for  the  diminished  numbers  of  his  battalion  (which 
did  not  exceed  three  hundred  men),  by  observing,  he  had  sent 
a  good  many  out  upon  parties. 

The  real  fact,  however,  was,  that  the  defection  of  Donald 
Bean  Lean  had  deprived  him  of  at  least  thirty  hardy  fellows, 
whose  services  he  had  fully  reckoned  upon,  and  that  many  of 
his  occasional  adherents  had  been  recalled  by  their  several 
chiefs  to  the  standards  to  which  they  most  properly  owed  their 
allegiance.  The  rival  chief  of  the  great  northern  branch  also 
of  his  own  clan  had  mustered  his  people,  although  he  had  not 
yet  declared  either  for  the  Government  or  for  the  Chevalier^ 


U^AVERLEY. 


271 


and  by  his  intrigues  had  in  some  degree  diminished  the  force 
with  which  Fergus  took  the  field.  To  make  amends  for  these 
disappointments,  it  was  universally  admitted  that  the  followers 
of  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  in  point  of  appearance,  equipment,  arms, 
and  dexterity  in  using  them,  equalled  the  most  choice  troops 
which  followed  the  standard  of  Charles  Edward.  Old  Ballen- 
keiroch  acted  as  his  major;  and  with  the  other  officers  who  had 
known  Waverley  when  at  Glennaquoich,  gave  our  hero  a  cordial 
reception,  as  the  sharer  of  their  future  clangers  and  expected 
honors. 

The  route  pursued  by  the  Highland  army,  after  leaving  the 
village  of  Duddingston,  was  for  some  time  the  common  post- 
road  betwixt  Edinburgh  and  Haddington,  until  they  crossed 
the  Esk  at  Musselburgh,  when,  instead  of  keeping  the  low 
grounds  towards  the  sea,  they  turned  more  inland,  and  occupied 
the  brow  of  the  eminence  called  Carberry  Hill,  a  place  already 
distinguished  in  Scottish  history  as  the  spot  where  the  lovely 
Mary  surrendered  herself  to  her  insurgent  subjects.  This 
direction  was  chosen  because  the  Chevalier  had  received  notice 
that  the  army  of  the  Government,  arriving  by  sea  from  Aber- 
deen, had  landed  at  Dunbar,  and  quartered  the  night  before  to 
the  west  of  Haddington,  with  the  intention  of  falling  down 
towards  the  seaside,  and  approaching  Edinburgh  by  the  lower 
coast-road.  By  keeping  the  height,  which  overhung  that  road 
in  many  places,  it  was  hoped  the  Highlanders  might  find  an 
opportunity  of  attacking  them  to  advantage.  The  army  there- 
fore halted  upon  the  ridge  of  Carberry  Hill,  both  to  refresh  the 
soldiers,  and  as  a  central  situation,  from  which  their  march 
could  be  directed  to  any  point  that  the  motions  of  the  enemy 
might  render  most  advisable.  While  they  remained  in  this 
position,  a  messenger  arrived  in  haste  to  desire  Mac-Ivor  to 
come  to  the  Prince,  adding,  that  their  advanced  post  had  had  a 
skirmish  with  some  of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  and  that  the  Baron 
of  Bradwardine  had  sent  in  a  few  prisoners. 

Waverley  walked  forward  out  of  the  line  to  satisfy  his  curi- 
osity, and  soon  observed  five  or  six  of  the  troopers,  who,  covered 
with  dust,  had  galloped  in  to  announce  that  the  enemy  were  in 
full  march  westward  along  the  coast.  Passing  still  a  little 
farther  on,  he  was  stmck  with  a  groan  wh'.ch  issued  from  a 
hovel.  He  approached  the  spot,  and  heard  a  voice,  in  the 
provincial  English  of  his  native  county,  which  endeavored, 
though  frequently  interrupted  by  pain,  to  repeat  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  The  voice  of  distress  always  found  a  ready  answer  in 
our  hero's  bosom.     He  entered  the  hovel,  which  seemed  to  be 


t-Jl 


lyAVEHLEY 


Intended  for  what  is  called,  in  the  pastorai  counties  of  Scot- 
land, Tistnt'aring-house ;  and  in  its  obscurity  Edward  could  onl)! 
at  first  discern  a  sort  of  red  bundle  ;  for  those  who  had  strip 
ped  the  wounded  man  of  his  arms,  and  part  of  his  clothes,  had 
left  him  the  dragoon-cloak  in  which  he  was  enveloped. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,"  said  the  wounded  man,  as  he  heard 
VVaverley's  step,  "  give  me  a  single  drop  of  water  !  " 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  answered  Waverley,  at  the  same  time 
raising  him  in  his  arms,  bearing  him  to  the  door  of  the  hut,  and 
giving  him  some  drink  from  his  flask. 

"  I  should  know  that  voice,"  said  the  man  ;  but  looking  on 
Waverley's  dress  with  a  bewildered  look — "  no,  this  is  not  the 
young  squire  !  " 

This  was  the  common  phrase  by  which  Edward  was  distin- 
guished on  the  estate  of  Waverley-Honour,  and  the  sound  now 
thrilled  to  his  heart  with  the  thousand  recollections  which 
the  well-known  accents  of  his  native  country  had  already  con- 
tributed to  awaken.  "  Houghton  !  "  he  said,  gazing  on  the 
ghastly  features  which  death  was  fast  disfiguring,  "  can  this  be 
you?" 

*'  I  never  thought  to  hear  an  English  voice  again,"  said  the 
wounded  man ;  "  they  left  me  to  live  or  die  here  as  I  could, 
when  they  found  I  would  say  nothing  about  the  strength  of 
the  regiment.  But,  O  squire  !  how  could  you  stay  from  us  so 
long,  and  let  us  be  tempted  by  that  fiend  of  the  pit,  Ruffin  ? 
— we  should  have  follosved  you  through  flood  and  fire,  to  be 
sure." 

*'  Ruffin  !  I  assure  you,  Houghton,  you  have  been  vilely  im- 
posed upon." 

"  I  often  thought  so,"  said  Houghton,  "  though  they  showed 
us  your  very  seal ;  and  so  Tims  was  shot,  and  I  was  reduced 
to  the  ranks." 

"  Do  not  exhaust  your  strength  in  speaking,"  said  Edward  i 
•*  I  will  get  you  a  surgeon  presently." 

He  saw  Mac-Ivor  approaching,  who  was  now  returning  from 
head-quarters,  when  he  had  attended  a  council  of  war,  and  has- 
tened to  meet  him.  "  Brave  news  !  "  shouted  the  Chief,  "  we 
shall  be  at  it  in  less  than  two  hours.  The  Prince  has  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  advance,  and  as  he  drew  his  sword,  called 
out,  '  My  friends,  I  have  thrown  away  the  scabbard.'  Come. 
Waverley,  we  move  instantly." 

"  A  moment — a  moment ;  this  poor  prisoner  is  dying  ;— 
where  shall  I  find  a  surgeon  ? " 

**  Why,  where  should  you  ?    We  have  none,  you  know,  but 


WAVER  LEY.  2^  J 

two  or  three  French  fellows,  who,  I  believe,  are  little  better 
than  gardens  apot/iecaires." 

"  But  the  man  will  bleed  to  death." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Fergus  in  a  momentary  fit  of  compas- 
sion, then  instantly  added,  "  But  it  will  be  a  thousand  men's 
fate  before  night ;  so  come  along.'* 

"I  cannot ;  I  tell  you  he  is  a  son  of  a  tenant  of  my  uncle's." 

"  O,  if  he's  a  follower  of  yours,  he  must  be  looked  to  ;  I'll 
send  Galium  to  you.  But  diaoul ! — ceade  millia  moUigheart  !'** 
continued  the  impatient  Chieftain — "  what  made  an  old  soldier 
like  Bradwardine  send  dying  men  here  to  cumber  us  ?  " 

Galium  came  with  his  usual  alertness ;  and,  indeed,  Waver- 
ley  rather  gained  than  lost  in  the  opinion  of  the  Highlanders 
by  his  anxiety  about  the  wounded  man.  They  would  not  have 
understood  the  general  philanthropy  which  rendered  it  almost 
impossible  for  Waverley  to  have  passed  any  person  in  such 
distress  ;  but,  as  apprehending  that  the  sufferer  was  one  of  his 
following''*  they  unanimously  allowed  that  Waverley's  conduct 
was  that  of  a  kind  and  considerate  chieftain,  who  merited  the 
attachment  of  his  people.  In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  poor 
Humphrey  breathed  his  last,  praying  his  young  master,  when 
he  returned  to  Waverley-Honour,  to  be  kind  to  old  Job  Hough* 
ton  and  his  dame,  and  conjuring  him  not  to  fight  with  these 
wild  petticoat-men  against  old  England. 

When  his  last  breath  was  drawn,  Waverley,  who  had  beheld 
with  sincere  sorrow,  and  no  slight  tinge  of  remorse,  the  final 
agonies  of  mortality,  now  witnessed  for  the  first  time,  com- 
manded Galium  to  remove  the  body  into  the  hut.  This  the 
young  Highlander  performed,  not  without  examining  the  pockets 
of  the  defunct,  which,  however,  he  remarked,  had  been  pretty 
well  spung'd.  He  took  the  cloak,  however,  and  proceeding 
with  the  provident  caution  of  a  spaniel  hiding  a  bone,  concealed 
it  among  some  furze,  and  carefully  marked  the  spot,  observing, 
that  if  he  chanced  to  return  that  way,  it  would  be  an  excellent 
rokelay  for  his  auld  mother  Elspat. 

It  was  by  a  considerable  exertion  that  they  regained  their 
place  in  the  marching  column,  which  was  now  moving  rapidly 
forward  to  occupy  the  high  grounds  above  the  village  of  Tra- 
nent, between  which  and  the  sea  lay  the  purposed  march  of  the 
opposite  army. 

This  melancholy  interview  with  his  late  sergeant  forced 
many  unavailing  and  painful  reflections  upon  Waverley's  mind. 
It  was  clear,  from  the  confession  of  the  man,  that  Colonel  Gar* 
diner's  proceedings  had  been , strictly  warranted,  and  even  ren* 


«74 


lVAVEJ?LEy 


dered  indispensable,  by  the  steps  taken  in  Edward's  name  «,o 
induce  the  soldiers  of  his  troop  to  mutiny.  The  circumstanca 
of  the  seal  he  now,  for  the  first  time,  recollected,  and  that  no 
had  lost  it  in  the  cavern  of  the  robber,  Bean  Lean.  That  the 
artful  villain  had  secured  it,  and  used  it  as  the  means  of  carry- 
ing on  an  intrigue  in  the  regiment,  for  his  own  purposes,  was 
sufficiently  evident  ;  and  Edward  had  now  little  doubt  that  in 
the  packet  placed  in  his  portmanteau  by  his  daughter  he  should 
find  farther  light  upon  his  proceedings.  In  the  mean  time,  the 
repeated  expostulation  of  Houghton — "  Ah,  squire,  why  did 
you  leave  us  ?  "  rung  like  a  knell  in  his  ears. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  indeed  acted  towards  you  with 
thoughtless  cruelty.  I  brought  you  from  your  paternal  fields, 
and  the  protection  of  a  generous  and  kind  landlord,  and  when 
I  had  subjected  you  to  all  the  rigor  of  military  discipline  I 
shunned  to  bear  my  own  share  of  the  burden,  and  wandered 
from  the  duties  I  had  undertaken,  leaving  alike  those  whom  it 
was  my  business  to  protect,  and  my  own  reputation,  to  sulTer 
under  the  artifices  of  villany.  O  indolence  and  indecision  of 
mind  !  if  not  in  yourselves  vices,  to  how  much  exquisite  misery 
and  mischief  do  you  frequently  prepare  the  way  1 " 


CHAPTER  FORTY-SIXTH. 

THE   EVE   OF    BATTLE. 

Although  the  Highlanders  marched  on  very  fast,  the  sun 
was  declining  when  they  arrived  upon  the  brow  of  those  high 
grounds  which  command  an  open  and  extensiv^e  plain  stretching 
northward  to  the  sea,  on  which  are  situated,  but  at  a  consider- 
able distance  from  each  other,  the  small  villages  of  Seaton  and 
Cockenzie,  and  the  larger  one  of  Preston.  One  of  the  low 
coast-roads  to  Edinburgh  passed  through  this  plain,  issuing 
upon  it  from  the  enclosures  of  Seaton-house,  and  at  the  town 
or  village  of  Preston  again  entering  the  defiles  of  an  enclosed 
country.  By  this  way  the  English  general  had  chosen  to 
approach  the  metropolis,  both  as  most  commodious  for  his 
cavalry,  and  being  probably  of  opinion  that,  by  doing  so,  he 
would  meet  in  front  with  the  Highlanders  advancing  from  Ed- 
inburgh in  the  opposite  direction.     In  this  he  was  mistaken  j 


WAVERLEY. 


275 


for  the  sound  judgment  of  the  Chevalier,  or  of  those  to  whose 
advice  he  Ustened,  left  the  direct  passage  free,  but  occupied 
the  strong  ground  by  which  it  was  overlooked  and  commanded. 

When  the  Highlanders  reached  the  heights  above  the  plain 
described,  they  were  immediately  formed  in  array  of  battle 
along  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  the  van 
of  the  English  appeared  issuing  from  among  the  trees  and 
enclosures  of  Seaton,  with  the  purpose  of  occupying  the  level 
plain  between  the  high  ground  and  the  sea ;  the  space  which 
divided  the  armies  being  only  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth. 
Waverley  could  plainly  see  the  squadrons  of  dragoons,  issue,  one 
after  another,  from  the  defiles,  with  their  videttes  in  front,  and 
form  upon  the  plain,  with  their  front  opposed  to  that  of  the 
Prince's  army.  They  were  followed  by  a  train  of  field-pieces, 
which,  when  they  reached  the  flank  of  the  dragoons,  were  also 
brought  into  line,  and  pointed  against  the  heights.  The  march 
was  continued  by  three  or  four  regiments  of  infantry  marching  in 
open  column,  their  fixed  bayonets  showing  like  successive 
hedges  of  steel,  and  their  arms  glancing  like  lightning,  as,  at 
a  signal  given,  they  also  at  once  wheeled  up,  and  were  placed 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  Highlanders.  A  second  train  of 
artillery,  with  another  regiment  of  horse,  closed  the  long  march, 
and  formed  on  the  left  flank  of  the  infantry,  the  whole  line 
facing  southward. 

While  the  English  army  went  throjugh  these  evolutions,  the 
Highlanders  showed  equal  promptitude  and  zeal  for  battle. 
As  fast  as  the  clans  came  upon  the  ridge  which  fronted  their 
enemy,  they  were  formed  into  line,  so  that  both  armies  got  into 
complete  order  of  battle  at  the  same  moment.  When  this  was 
accomplished,  the  Highlanders  set  up  a  tremendous  yell,  which 
was  re-echoed  by  the  heights  behind  them.  The  regulars,  who 
were  in  high  spirits,  returned  a  loud  shout  of  defiance,  and 
fired  one  or  two  of  their  cannon  upon  an  advanced  post  of  the 
Highlanders.  The  latter  displayed  great  earnestness  to  pro- 
ceed instantly  to  the  attack,  Evan  Dhu,  urging  to  Fergus,  by 
way  of  argument,  that  "  the  sidicr  roy  was  tottering  like  an  egg 
upon  a  staff,  and  that  they  had  a'  the  vantage  of  the  onset,  for 
even  a  haggis  (God  bless  her!)  could  charge  down  hill." 

But  the  ground  through  wliich  the  mountaineers  must  have 
descended,  although  not  of  great  extent,  was  impracticable  in 
its  character,  being  not  only  marshy,  but  intersected  with  walls 
of  dry  stone,  and  traversed  in  its  whole  length  by  a  very  broad 
and  deep  ditch,  circumstances  wliich  must  have  given  the  mus- 
ketry of  the  regulars  dreadful  advantages,  before  the  mountain- 


gyS  WAVERLEY. 

eers  could  have  used  their  swords,  on  wlnoli  they  were  taughl 
to  rely.  The  authority  of  the  commanders  was  therefore  in< 
terposed  to  curb  the  impetuosity  of  the  Highlanders,  and  only 
a  few  marksmen  were  sent  down  the  descent  to  skirmish  with 
the  enemy's  advanced  posts,  and  to  reconnoitre  the  ground. 

Here,  then,  was  a  militar}'' spectacle  of  no  ordinary  interest, 
or  usual  occurrence.  The  two  armies,  so  different  in  aspect 
and  discipline,  yet  each  admirably  trained  in  its  own  peculiar 
mode  of  war,  upon  whose  conflict  the  temporary  fate  at  least  of 
Scotland  appeared  to  depend,  now  faced  each  other  like  two 
gladiators  in  the  arena,  each  meditating  upon  the  mode  of 
attacking  their  enemy.  The  leading  officers,  and  the  general's 
staff  of  each  army,  could  be  distinguished  in  front  of  their  lines, 
busied  with  spy-glasses  to  watch  each  other's  motions,  and 
occupied  in  despatching  the  orders  and  receiving  the  Intelli- 
gence conveyed  by  the  aides-de-camp  and  orderly  men,  who 
gave  life  to  the  scene  by  galloping  along  in  different  directions, 
as  if  the  fate  of  the  day  depended  upon  the  speed  of  their 
horses.  The  space  between  the  armies  was  at  times  occupieJ 
by  the  partial  and  irregular  contests  of  individual  sharpshooters, 
and  a  hai  or  bonnet  was  occasionally  seen  to  fall,  as  a  wounded 
man  was  borne  off  by  his  comrades.  These,  however,  were 
but  trifling  skirmishes,  for  it  suited  the  views  of  neither  party 
to  advance  in  that  direction.  From  the  neighboring  hamlets 
the  peasantry  cautiously  showed  themselves,  as  if  watching  the 
issue  of  the  expected  engagement ;  and  at  no  great  distance  in 
the  bay  were  two  square-rigged  vessels,  bearing  the  English 
flag,  whose  tops  and  yards  were  crowded  with  less  timid  spec- 
tators. 

When  this  awful  pause  had  lasted  for  a  short  time,  Fergus, 
with  another  chieftain,  received  orders  to  detach  their  clans 
towards  the  village  of  Preston,  in  order  to  threaten  the  right 
flank  of  Cope's  army,  and  compel  him  to  a  change  of  position. 
To  enable  him  to  execute  these  orders,  the  Chief  of  Glenna* 
quoich  occupied  the  churchyard  of  Tranent,  a  commanding 
situation,  and  a  convenient  place,  as  Evan  Dhu  remarked, 
"  for  any  gentleman  who  might  have  the  misfortune  to  be  killed, 
and  chanced  to  be  curious  about  Christian  burial."  To  check 
or  dislodge  this  party,  the  English  general  detached  two  guns, 
escorted  by  a  strong  party  of  cavalry.  They  approached  so 
near,  that  Waverley  could  plainly  recognize  the  standard  of  the 
troop  he  had  formerly  commanded,  and  hear  the  trumpets  and 
kettle-drums  sound  the  signal  of  advance,  which  he  had  so 
often  obeyed.     He  could  hear,  too,  the  well-known  word  given 


tVAVERLBY, 


277 


tn  the  English  dialect,  by  the  equally  well-dislingulshed  voice 
of  the  commanding  officer,  for  whom  he  had  once  felt  so  much 
respect.  It  was  at  that  instant,  that,  looking  around  him,  he 
saw  the  wild  dress  and  appearance  of  his  Highland  associates, 
heard  their  whispers  in  an  uncouth  and  unknown  language, 
looked  upon  his  own  dress,  so  unlike  that  which  he  had  worn 
from  his  infancy,  and  wished  to  awake  from  what  seemed  at 
the  moment  a  dream,  strange,  horrible,  and  unnatural.  "  Good 
God  !  "  he  muttered,  "  am  I  then  a  traitor  to  my  country,  a 
renegade  to  my  standard,  and  a  foe,  as  that  poor  dying  wretch 
expressed  himself,  to  my  native  England  !  " 

Ere  he  could  digest  or  smother  the  recollection,  the  tall 
military  form  of  his  late  commander  came  full  in  view,  for  the 
purpose  of  reconnoitring.  "  I  can  hit  him  now,"  said  Galium, 
cautiously  raising  his  fusee  over  the  wall  under  which  he  lay 
couched,  at  scarce  sixty  yards'  distance. 

Edward  felt  as  if  he  was  about  to  see  a  parricide  committed 
In  his  presence  ;  for  the  venerable  gray  hair  and  striking 
countenance  of  the  veteran  recalled  the  almost  paternal  re- 
spect with  which  his  officers  universally  regarded  him.  But 
ere  he  could  say  "  Hold  !  "  an  aged  Highlander,  who  lay  beside 
Galium  Beg,  stopped  his  arm.  "  Spare  your  shot,"  said  the 
seer,  "  his  hour  is  not  yet  come.  But  let  him  beware  of  to- 
morrow.— I  see  his  winding-sheet  high  upon  his  breast. 

Galium,  flint  to  other  considerations,  was  penetrable  to 
superstition.  He  turned  pale  at  the  words  of  the  Taishatr, 
and  recovered  his  piece.  Golonel  Gardiner,  unconscious  of 
the  danger  he  had  escaped,  turned  his  horse  round,  and  rode 
slowly  back  to  the  front  of  his  regiment. 

By  this  time  the  regular  army  had  assumed  a  new  line,  with 
one  flank  inclined  towards  the  sea,  and  the  other  resting  upon 
the  village  of  Preston  ;  and  as  similar  difficulties  occurred  in 
attacking  their  new  position,  Fergus  and  the  rest  of  the  de- 
tachment were  recalled  to  their  former  post.  This  alteration 
created  the  necessity  of  a  corresponding  change  in  General 
Cope's  army,  which  was  again  brought  into  a  line  parallel  with 
that  of  the  Highlanders.  In  these  manoeuvres  on  both  sides 
the  daylight  was  nearly  consumed,  and  both  armies  prepared 
to  rest  upon  their  arms  for  the  night  in  the  lines  which  they 
respectively  occupied. 

"  There  will  be  nothing  done  to   night,"  said  Fergus  to  his 
friend  Waverley.     "  Ere  we  wrap  ourselves  in  our  plaids,  let  us 
go  see  what  the  Baron  is  doing  in  the  rear  of  the  line." 
.  When  they  approached  his  post,  they  found  the  good  old 


t78  W^  VERLEY. 

careful  officer,  after  having  sent  out  his  night  patrols,  and 
posted  his  sentinels,  engaged  in  reading  the  Evening  Service  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  to  the  remainder  of  his  troop.  His  voice 
was  loud  and  sonorous,  and  though  his  spectacles  upon  his 
nose,  and  the  appearance  of  Saunders  Saunderson,  in  military 
array,  performing  the  functions  of  clerk,  had  something  ludi- 
crous, yet  the  circumstances  of  danger  in  which  they  stood,  the 
military  costume  of  the  audience,  and  the  appearance  of  their 
horses,  saddled  and  picketed  behind  them,  gave  an  impressive 
and  solemn  effect  to  the  office  of  devotion. 

"  I  have  confessed  to-day,  ere  you  were  awake,"  whispered 
Fergus  to  Waverley  j  "yet  I  am  not  so  strict  a  Catholic  a  to 
refuse  to  join  in  this  good  man's  prayers." 

Edward  assented,  and  they  remained  till  the  Baron  had  con- 
cluded the  service. 

As  he  shut  the  book,  "  Now  lads,"  said  he,  "  have  at  them 
in  the  morning,  with  heavy  hands  and  light  consciences."  He 
then  kindly  greeted  Mac-Ivor  and  Waverley,  who  requested  to 
know  his  opinion  of  their  situation.  "  Why,  you  know,  Tacitus 
saith  *  In  rebus  belUcis  fnaxhne  dominaUir  Fortuna^  which  is 
equiponderate  with  our  vernacular  adage,  '  Luck  can  maist  in 
the  mellee.'  But  credit  me,  gentleman,  yon  man  is  not  a  deacon 
o'  his  craft.  He  damps  the  spirits  of  the  poor  lads  he  com- 
mands, by  keeping  them  on  the  defensive,  whilk  of  itself  implies 
inferiority  or  fear.  Now  will  they  lie  on  their  arms  yonder,  as 
anxious  and  as  ill  at  ease  as  a  toad  under  a  harrow,  while  our  men 
will  be  quite  fresh  and  blithe  for  action  in  the  morning.  Well, 
good-night. — One  thing  troubles  me,  but  if  to-morrow  goes  well 
off,  I  will  consult  you  about  it,  Glennaquoich." 

"  I  could  almost  apply  to  Mr.  Bradwardine  the  character 
which  Henry  gives  of  Fluellen,"  said  Waverley,  as  his  friend 
and  he  walked  towards  their  bivouac: 

Though  it  appears  a  little  out  of  fashion, 

There  is  much  care  and  valor  in  this  "  Scotchmai^' 

*  He  has  seen  much  service,"  answered  Fergus,  **  and  one 
is  sometimes  astonished  to  find  how  much  nonsense  and  reason 
are  mingled  in  his  composition.  I  wonder  what  can  be  troub* 
ling  his  mind — probably  something  about  Rose. — Hark !  the 
English  are  setting  their  watch." 

The  roll  of  the  drum  and  shrill  accompaniment  of  the  fifes 
swelled  up  the  hill — died  away — resumed  its  thunder — and  was 
at  length  hushed.    The  trumpets  and  kettle-drums  of  the  cavalqr 


WAVERLEY. 


279 


tvere  next  heard  to  perform  the  beautiful  and  wild  poim  of  wac 
appropriated  as  a  signal  for  that  piece  of  nocturnal  duty,  and 
then  finally  sunk  upon  the  wind  with  a  shrill  and  mournful 
cadence. 

The  friends,  who  had  now  reached  their  post,  stood  and 
looked  round  them  ere  they  lay  down  to  rest.  The  western 
sky  twinkled  with  stars,  but  a  frost-mist,  rising  from  the  ocean, 
covered  the  eastern  horizon,  and  rolled  in  white  wreaths  along 
the  plain  where  the  adverse  army  lay  couched  upon  their  arms. 
Their  advanced  posts  were  pushed  as  far  as  the  side  of  the 
great  ditch  at  the  bottom  of  the  descent,  and  had  kindled  large 
fires  at  different  intervals,  gleaming  with  obscure  and  hazy 
lustre  through  the  heavy  fog  which  encircled  them  with  a  doubt- 
ful halo. 

The  Highlanders,  "  thick  as  leaves  in  Vallambrosa,"  lay 
stretched  upon  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  buried  (excepting  their 
sentinels)  in  the  most  profound  repose.  "  How  many  of  these 
brave  fellows  will  sleep  more  soundly  before  to-morrow  night, 
Fergus  I  "  said  Waverley,  with  an  involuntary  sigh. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  that,"  answered  Fergus,  whose 
ideas  were  entirely  military.  "  You  must  only  think  of  youf 
sword,  and  by  whom  it  was  given.     All  other  reflections  are 

now  TOO  LATE." 

With  the  opiate  contained  in  this  undeniable  remark,  Ed- 
ward endeavored  to  lull  the  tumult  of  his  conflicting  feelings. 
The  Chieftain  and  he,  combining  their  plaids,  made  a  comfort- 
able and  warm  couch.  Galium,  sitting  down  at  their  head  (foi 
it  was  his  duty  to  watch  upon  the  immediate  person  of  the 
Chief),  began  a  long  mournful  song  in  Gaelic,  to  a  low  and 
uniform  tune,  v/hich,  like  the  sound  of  the  wind  at  a  distance, 
soon  lulled  them  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-SEVENTH. 

THE  CONFLICT. 

When  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  and  his  friend  had  slept  for  a  few 
hours,  they  were  awakened,  and  summoned  to  attend  the 
prince.    The  distant  village-clock  was  heard  to  toll  thitett  at 


iSo  WAVER  LEY, 

they  hastened  to  the  place  where  he  lay.  He  was  already  sur* 
rounded  by  his  principal  officers  and  the  chiefs  of  clans.  A 
bundle  of  pease-straw,  which  had  been  lately  his  couch,  no\» 
served  for  a  seat.  Just  as  Fergus  reached  the  circle,  the  con- 
sultation had  broken  up.  "Courage,  my  brave  friends  !"  said 
the  Chevalier,  "  and  each  one  put  himself  instantly  at  the  head 
of  his  command  ;  a  faithful  friend  "^  has  offered  to  guide  us 
by  a  practicable,  though  narrow  and  circuitous  route,  which, 
sweeping  to  our  right,  traverses  the  broken  ground  and  morass, 
and  enables  us  to  gain  the  firm  and  open  plain,  upon  which  the 
enemy  are  lying.  This  difficulty  surmounted,  Heaven  and 
your  good  swords  must  do  the  rest." 

The  proposal  spread  unanimous  joy,  and  each  leader  hast- 
ened to  get  his  men  into  order  with  as  little  noise  as  possible. 
The  army,  moving  by  its  right  from  off  the  ground  on  which 
they  had  rested,  soon  entered  the  path  through  the  morass, 
conducting  their  march  with  astonishing  silence  and  great 
rapidity.  The  mist  had  not  risen  to  the  higher  grounds,  so 
that  for  some  time  they  had  the  advantage  of  starlight.  But 
this  was  lost  as  the  stars  faded  before  approaching  day,  and 
the  head  of  the  marching  column,  continuing  its  descent,  plung- 
ing as  it  were  into  the  heavy  ocean  of  fog,  which  rolled  its 
white  wave3  over  the  whole  plain,  and  over  the  sea  by  which  it 
was  bounded.  Some  difficulties  were  now  to  be  encountered, 
inseparable  from  darkness, —  a  narrow,  broken,  and  marshy 
path,  and  the  necessity  of  preserving  union  in  the  march. 
These,  however,  were  less  inconvenient  to  Highlanders,  from 
their  habits  of  life,  than  they  would  have  been  to  any  other 
troops,  and  they  continued  a  steady  and  swift  movement. 

As  the  clan  of  Ivor  approached  the  firm  ground,  follow- 
ing the  track  of  those  who  preceded  them,  the  challenge  of  a 
patrol  was  heard  through  the  mist,  though  they  could  not  see 
the  dragoon  by  whom  it  was  made — "  Who  goes  there  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  Fergus,  "  hush  ! — Let  none  answer  as  he 
values  his  life. — Press  forward !  "  and  they  continued  their 
inarch  with  silence  and  rapidity. 

The  patrol  fired  his  carabine  upon  the  body,  and  the  re- 
port was  instantly  followed  by  the  clang  of  his  horse's  feet 
as  he  galloped  off.  ^''  Hylax  in  limine  latrat,'"  said  the  Baron 
of  Bradwardine,  who  heard  the  shot ;  "  that  loon  will  give  the 
alarm." 

The  clan  of  Fergus  had  now  gained  the  firm  plain,  whivh 
had  lately  borne  a  large  crop  of  corn.  But  the  harvest  waa 
gathered  in,  and  the  expanse  was  unbroken  by  tree,  bush,  or  io- 


IVJVERLEY.  281 

terruption  of  any  kind.  The  rest  of  the  army  were  following 
fast,  when  they  heard  the  drums  of  the  enemy  beat  the  general. 
Surprise,  however,  had  made  no  part  of  their  plan,  so  they 
were  not  disconcerted  by  this  intimation  that  the  foe  was  upon 
his  guard  and  prepared  to  receive  them.  It  only  hastened 
their  dispositions  for  the  combat,  which  were  very  simple. 

The  Highland  army,  which  now  occupied  the  eastern  end 
of  the  wide  plain,  or  stubble  field,  so  often  referred  to,  was 
drawn  up  in  two  lines,  extending  from  the  morass  towards  the 
sea.  The  first  was  destined  to  charge  the  enemy,  the  second 
to  act  as  a  reserve.  The  few  horse,  whom  the  Prince  headed 
in  person,  remained  between  the  two  lines.  The  Adventurer 
had  intimated  a  resolution  to  charge  in  person  at  the  head  of 
his  first  line  ;  but  his  purpose  was  deprecated  by  all  round 
him,  and  he  was  with  difficulty  induced  to  abandon  it. 

Both  lines  were  now  moving  forward,  the  first  prepared  for 
instant  combat.  The  clans  of  which  it  was  composed,  formed 
each  a  sort  of  separate  phalanx,  narrow  in  front,  and  in  depth 
ten,  twelve,  or  fifteen  files,  according  to  the  strength  of  the 
following.  The  best-armed  and  best-born,  for  the  words  were 
synonymous,  were  placed  in  front  of  each  of  these  irregular 
subdivisions.  The  others  in  the  rear  shouldered  forward  ,the 
front,  and  by  their  pressure  added  both  physical  impulse,  and 
additional  ardor  and  confidence,  to  those  who  were  first  to  en- 
counter the  danger. 

"  Down  with  your  plaid,  Waverley,"  cried  Fergus,  throwing 
off  his  own  j  "  we'll  win  silks  for  our  tartans  before  the  sun  is 
above  the  sea." 

The  clansmen  on  every  side  stript  their  plaids,  prepared 
their  arms,  and  there  was  an  awful  pause  of  about  three 
minutes,  during  which  the  men,  pulling  off  their  bonnets, 
raised  their  faces  to  heaven,  and  uttered  a  short  prayer ;  then 
pulled  their  bonnets  over  their  brows,  and  began  to  move  for- 
ward at  first  slowly.  Waverley  felt  his  heart  at  that  moment 
throb  as  it  would  have  burst  from  his  bosom.  It  was  not  fear, 
it  was  not  ardor, — it  was  a  compound  of  both,  a  new  and  deeply 
energetic  impulse,  that  with  its  first  emotion  chilled,  astounded, 
then  fevered  and  maddened  his  mind.  The  sounds  around 
him  combined  to  exalt  his  enthusiasm,  the  pipes  played,  and 
the  clans  rushed  forward,  each  in  its  own  dark  column.  As 
they  advanced  they  mended  their  pace,  and  the  muttering 
sounds  of  the  men  to  each  other  began  to  swell  into  a  wild  cry. 

At  this  moment  the  sun,  which  was  now  risen  above  the 
horizon  dispelled  the  mist.     The  vapors  rose  like  a  curtair^ 


tS>  WAVERLEY. 

and  showed  the  two  armies  in  the  act  of  closing.  The  line  ck 
the  regulars  was  formed  directly  fronting  the  attack  of  the 
Highlanders  ;  it  glittered  with  the  appointments  of  a  complete 
army,  and  was  flanked  by  cavalry  and  artiller)\  But  the  sight 
impressed  no  terror  on  the  assailants. 

Forward,  sons  of  Ivor,"  cried  their  Chief,  "orthe  Camerons 
will  draw  the  first  blood  !  " — They  rushed  on  with  a  tremendous 
yell. 

The  rest  is  well  known.  The  horse,  who  were  commanded 
to  charge  the  advancing  Highlanders  in  the  flank,  received  an 
irregular  fire  from  their  fusees  as  they  ran  on,  and,  seized  with 
a  disgraceful  panic,  wavered,  halted,  disbanded,  and  galloped 
from  the  field.  The  artillerymen,  deserted  by  the  cavalr}*,  fled 
after  discharging  their  pieces,  and  the  Highlanders,  who 
dropped  their  guns  when  fired,  and  drew  their  broadswords, 
rushed  with  headlong  fury  against  the  infantry. 

It  was  at  this  moment  of  confusion  and  terror,  that  Waver- 
ley  remarked  an  English  officer,  apparently  of  high  rank,  stand- 
ing alone  and  unsupported  by  a  field-piece,  which  after  the 
flight  of  the  men  by  whom  it  was  wrought,  he  had  himself  lev* 
elled  and  discharged  against  the  clan  of  Mac-Ivor,  the  nearest 
group  of  Highlanders  within  his  aim.  Struck  with  his  tall, 
martial  figure,  and  eager  to  save  him  from  inevitable  destruc- 
tion, Waverley  outstripped  for  an  instant  even  the  speediest  of 
the  warriors,  and,  reaching  the  spot  first,  called  to  him  to  sur- 
render. The  officer  replied  by  a  thrust  with  his  sword,  which 
Waverley  received  in  his  target,  and  in  turning  it  aside  the 
Englishman's  weapon  broke.  At  the  same  time  the  battle-axe 
of  Dugald  Mahony  was  in  the  act  of  descending  upon  the  of- 
ficer's head.  Waverley  intercepted  and  prevented  the  blow, 
and  the  officer,  preceiving  further  resistance  unavailing,  and 
struck  with  Edward's  generous  anxiety  for  his  safety,  resigned 
the  fragment  of  his  sword,  and  was  committed  by  Waverley  to 
Dugald,  with  strict  charge  to  use  him  well,  and  not  to  pillage 
his  person,  promising  him,  at  the  same  time,  full  indemnifica- 
tion for  the  spoil. 

On  Edward's  right,  the  battle  for  a  few  minutes  raged  fierce 
and  thick.  The  English  infantry,  trained  in  the  wars  in 
Flanders,  stood  their  ground  with  great  courage.  But  their 
extended  files  were  pierced  and  broken  in  many  places  by 
the  close  masses  of  the  clans  ;  and  in  the  personal  struggle 
which  ensued,  the  nature  of  the  Highlanders'  weapons,  and 
their  extraordinary  fierceness  and  activit}^  gave  them  a  decided 
superiority  over  those  who  had  been  accustomed  to  trust  much 


WAVERLEY.  283 

to  their  array  and  discipline,  and  felt  that  the  one  was  broken 
and  the  other  useless.  Waverley,  as  he  cast  his  eyes  towards 
the  scene  of  smoke  and  slaughter,  observed  Colonel  Gardiner, 
deserted  by  his  own  soldiers  in  spite  of  all  his  attempts  to 
rally  them,  yet  spurring  his  horse  through  the  field  to  take  the 
command  of  a  small  body  of  infantry,  who  with  their  backs  ar- 
ranged against  the  wall  of  his  own  park  (for  his  house  was 
close  by  the  field  of  battle),  continued  a  desperate  and  una- 
vailing resistance.  Waverley  could  perceive  that  he  had  al- 
ready received  many  wounds,  his  clothes  and  saddle  being 
marked  with  blood.  To  save  this  good  and  brave  man,  be- 
came the  instant  object  of  his  most  anxious  exertions.  But 
he  could  only  witness  his  fall.  Ere  Edward  could  make  his 
way  among  the  Highlanders,  who,  furious  and  eager  for  spoil, 
now  thronged  upon  each  other,  he  saw  his  former  commander 
brought  from  his  horse  by  the  blow  of  a  scythe,  and  beheld  him 
receive,  while  on  the  ground,  more  wounds  than  would  have  let 
out  twenty  lives.  When  Waverley  came  up,  however,  percep- 
tion had  not  entirely  fled.  The  dying  warrior  seemed  to  recog- 
nize Edward,  for  he  fixed  his  eye  upon  him  with  an  upbraiding, 
yet  sorrowful  look,  and  appeared  to  struggle  for  utterance. 
But  he  felt  that  death  was  dealing  closely  with  him,  and  resign- 
ing his  purpose,  and  folding  his  hands  as  if  in  devotion,  he 
gave  up  his  soul  to  his  Creator.  The  look  with  which  he  re- 
garded Waverley  in  his  dying  moments  did  not  strike  him  so 
deeply  at  that  crisis  of  hurry  and  confusion,  as  when  it  recurred 
to  his  imagination  at  the  distance  of  some  time.''*' 

Loud  shouts  of  triumph  now  echoed  over  the  whole  field. 
The  battle  was  fought  and  won,  and  the  whole  baggage,  artil- 
ler}',  and  military  stores  of  the  regular  army  remained  in  jjosses- 
sion  of  the  victors.  Never  was  a  victory  more  complete.  Scarce 
any  escaped  from  the  battle,  excepting  the  cavalry,  who  had  left 
it  at  the  very  onset,  and  even  these  were  broken  into  different 
parties,  and  scattered  all  over  the  country.  So  far  as  our  tale  is 
concerned,  we  have  only  to  relate  the  fate  of  Balmawhapple,  who, 
mounted  on  a  horse  as  headstrong  and  stiff-necked  as  his  rider, 
pursued  the  flight  of  the  dragoons  above  four  miles  from  the 
field  of  battle,  when  some  dozen  of  the  fugitives  took  heart  of 
grace,  turned  round,  and,  cleaving  his  skull  with  their  broad- 
swords, satisfied  the  world  that  the  unfortunate  gentleman  had 
actually  brains,  the  end  of  his  life  thus  giving  proof  of  a  fact 
greatly  doubted  during  its  progress.  His  death  was  lamented 
by  few.  Most  of  those  who  knew  him  agreed  in  the  pithy 
observation  of  Ensign  Maccombich,  that  there  "  was  mair  tini 


284  WAVERLEY. 

(lost)  at  Sheriff-Muir."  His  friend  Lieutenant  Jinker,  bent  hia 
eloquence  only  to  exculpate  his  favorite  mare  from  any  share 
in  contributing  to  the  catastrophe.  "  He  had  tauld  the  laird 
a  thousand  times,"  he  said,  "  that  it  was  a  burning  shame  to 
put  a  martingale  upon  the  puir  thing,  when  he  would  needs 
ride  her  wi'  a  curb  of  half  a  yard  lang  ;  and  that  he  could  na 
but  bring  himself  (not  to  say  her)  to  some  mischief,  by  fling- 
ing her  down,  or  otherwise  ;  whereas,  if  he  had  had  a  wee  bit 
rinnin  ring  on  the  snaffle,  she  wad  ha'  rein'd  as  cannily  as  a 
cadger's  pownie." 

Such  was  the  elegy  of  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple.'^ 


CHAPTER  FORTY-EIGHTH. 

AN  UNEXPECTED  EMBARRASSMENT. 

When  the  battle  was  over,  and  all  things  coming  into  order 
the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  returning  from  the  duty  of  the  day 
and  having  disposed  those  under  his  command  in  their  propel 
stations,  sought  the  Chieftain  of  Glennaquoich  and  his  friend 
Edward  Waverley.  He  found  the  former  busied  in  determin- 
ing disputes  among  his  clansmen  about  points  of  precedence 
and  deeds  of  valor,  besides  sundry  high  and  doubtful  questions 
concerning  plunder.  The  most  important  of  the  last  respected 
the  property  of  a  gold  watch,  which  had  once  belonged  to  some 
unfortunate  English  officer.  The  party  against  whom  judg- 
ment was  awarded  consoled  himself  by  observing,  "  She  (/.  e., 
the  watch,  which  he  took  for  a  living  animal)  died  the  very 
night  Vich  Ian  Vohr  gave  her  to  Murdock  ; "  the  machine 
having,  in  fact,  stopped  for  want  of  winding  up. 

It  was  just  when  this  important  question  was  decided,  that 
the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  with  a  careful  and  yet  important 
expression  of  countenance,  joined  the  two  young  men.  He 
descended  from  his  reeking  charger,  the  care  of  which  he  rec. 
ommended  to  one  of  his  grooms.  "  I  seldom  ban,  sir,"  said 
he  to  the  man  ;  "  but  if  you  play  any  of  your  hound's-foot 
tricks,  and  leave  puir  Berwick  before  he's  sorted,  to  rin  after 
spuilzie,  deil  be  wi'  me  if  I  do  not  give  your  craig  a  thraw." 
He  then  stroked  with  great  complacency  the  animal  which  had 
borne  him  through  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  and  having  taken  a 
tender  leave  of  him,^"  Weel,  my  good  young  friends,  a  glorious 


WAVERLBY.  28g 

(ina  decisive  victory,"  said  lie  ;  "  but  these  loons  of  troopers 
fled  ower  soon.  I  should  have  liked  to  have  shown  you  the  true 
points  of  the  prallum  eqiiestre,  or  equestrian  combat,  whilk 
their  cowardice  lias  postponed,  and  which  I  hold  to  be  the 
pride  and  terror  of  warfare.  Weel,  I  have  fought  once  more 
in  this  old  quarrel,  though  I  admit  I  could  not  be  so  far  hen  as 
you  lads,  being  that  it  was  my  point  of  duty  to  keep  together 
our  handful  of  horse.  And  no  cavalier  ought  in  any  wise  to 
begrudge  honor  that  befalls  his  companions,  even  though  they 
are  ordered  upon  thrice  his  danger,  whilk,  another  time,  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  maybe  his  own  case. — But,  Glennaquoich, 
and  you,  Mr.  Waverley,  I  pray  ye  to  give  me  your  best  advice 
on  a  matter  of  mickle  weight,  and  which  deeply  affects  the 
honor  of  the  house  of  Brad  ward  uie. — I  crave  your  pardon, 
Ensign  Maccombich,  and  yours,  Inveraughlin,  and  yours, 
Edderalshendrach,  and  yours,  sir." 

The  last  person  he  addressed  was  P]allenkeiroch,  who,  re- 
membering the  death  of  his  son,  lowered  on  him  with  a  look  of 
savage  defiance.  The  Baron,  quick  as  lightning  at  taking  um- 
brage, had  already  bent  his  brow,  when  Glennaquoich  dragged 
his  major  from  the  spot,  and  remonstrated  with  him,  in  the 
authoritative  tone  of  a  chieftain,  on  the  madness  of  reviving  a 
quarrel  in  such  a  moment. 

"  The  ground  is  cumbered  with  carcasses,"  said  the  old 
mountaineer,  turning  sullenly  away ;  "  one  more  would  hardly 
have  been  kenn'd  upon  it ;  and  if  it  wasna  for  yoursell,  Vich 
Ian  Volir,  that  one  should  be  Bradwardine's  or  mine." 

The  Chief  soothed  while  he  hurried  him  away  ;  and  then 
returned  to  the  Baron.  "  It  is  Ballenkeiroch,"  he  said,  in  an 
under  and  confidential  voice,  "  father  of  the  young  man  who 
fell  eight  years  since  in  the  unlucky  affair  at  the  Mains." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Baron,  instantly  relaxing  the  doubtful 
sternness  of  his  features,  "  I  can  take  mickle  fra  a  man  to 
whom  I  have  unhappily  rendered  sic  a  displeasure  as  that. 
Ye  were  right  to  apprize  me,  Glennaquoich  ;  he  may  look  as 
black  as  midnight  at  Martinmas  ere  Cosnio  Comyne  Bradwar- 
dine  shall  say  he  does  him  wrang.  Ah  !  I  have  nae  male 
lineage,  and  I  should  bear  with  one  I  have  made  child- 
less, though  you  are  aware  the  blood-wit  was  made  up  to 
your  ain  satisfaction  by  assythment,  and  that  I  have  since  ex- 
pedited letters  of  slains. — Weel,  as  I  have  said,  I  have  no 
male  issue,  and  yet  it  is  needful  that  I  maintain  the  honor  of 
my  house  ;  and  it  is  on  that  score  I  prayed  ye  for  your  pe<^ilia| 
and  private  attention." 


(85  WAVERLEY. 

The  two  young  men  awaited  to  hear  him  In  anxious  cuA 

osity. 

"  I  doubt  na,  lads,"  he  proceeded,  "  but  your  education 
has  been  sae  seen  to,  that  ye  understand  the  true  nature  of  tha 
feudal  tenures  ? " 

Fergus,  afraid  of  an  endless  dissertation,  answered,  "  Inti 
mately.  Baron,"  and  touched  Waverley,  as  a  signal  to  express 
no  ignorance. 

"  And  ye  are  aware,  I  doubt  not,  that  the  holding  of  the 
Barony  of  Bradwardine  is  of  a  nature  alike  honorable  and 
peculiar,  being  blanch  (which  Craig  opines  ought  to  be  Latin- 
ated  blanaim,  or  rather  franatm,  a  free  holding)  pro  servitio 
(ietrahendi,  sen  exiiendi,  caligas  regis  post  battalliajn.^''  Here 
Fergus  turned  his  falcon  eye  upon  Edward,  with  an  almost  im- 
perceptible rise  of  his  eyebrow,  to  which  his  shoulders  corre- 
sponded in  the  same  degree  of  elevation.  "  Now,  twa  points 
of  dubitation  occur  to  me  upon  this  topic.  First,  whether  this 
serv'ice,  or  feudal  homage,  "be  at  any  event  due  to  the  person 
of  the  Prince,  the  words  being,  per  expressum  caligas  regis,  the 
boots  of  the  king  himself;  and  I  pray  your  opinion  anent  tha/ 
particular  before  we  proceed  farther." 

"  Why,  he  is  Prince  Regent,"  answered  Mac-Ivor,  with 
laudable  composure  of  countenance;  "and  in  the  court  of 
France  all  the  honors  are  rendered  to  the  person  of  the  Regent 
which  are  due  to  that  of  the  King.  Besides,  were  I  to  pull  off 
either  of  their  boots,  I  would  render  that  service  to  the  young 
Chevalier  ten  times  more  willingly  than  to  his  father." 

"  Ay,  but  I  talk  not  of  personal  predilections.  However, 
your  authority  is  of  great  weight  as  to  the  usages  of  the  court 
of  France  .  and  doubtless  the  Prince,  as  alter  ego,  may  have  a 
right  to  claim  the  homagiufn  of  the  great  tenants  of  the  crown, 
since  all  faithful  subjects  are  commanded,  in  the  commission 
of  regency,  to  respect  him  as  the  king's  own  person.  Far, 
therefore,  be  it  from  me  to  diminish  the  lustre  of  his  authorit}^, 
by  withholding  this  act  of  homage,  so  peculiarly  calculated  to 
give  it  splendor ;  for  I  question  if  the  Emperor  of  Germany 
hath  his  boots  taken  off  by  a  free  baron  of  the  empire.  But 
here  lieth  the  second  difificulty. — The  Prince  wears  no  boots, 
but  simply  brogues  and  trews." 

This  last  dilemma  had  almost  disturbed  Fergus's  gravity. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  you  know,  Baron,  the  proverb  tells  us, 
'It*s  ill  taking  the  breeks  off  a  Highlandman,' — and  the  boots 
we  here  in  the  same  predicament." 

"  The  word  caligce,  however."  continued  the  Baron,  *'  thougli 


WAVERLEY.  2S'f 

t  admit,  that,  by  family  tradition,  and  even  in  our  ancient 

evidents,  it  is  explained  /in  boots,  means,  in  its  primitive  sense, 
rather  sandals  ;  and  Caius  Csesar,  the  nephew  and  successor 
of  Caius  Tiberius,  received  the  agnomen  of  Caligula,  a  caligulis.^ 
stve  caligis  let'ioribns,  qiiibus  adolescentior  tisus fucrat  in  exercitu 
Germanici patris  sui.  And  the  caligce  were  also  proper  to  the 
monastic  bodies  :  tor  we  read  in  an  ancient  Glossarium,  upon 
the  rule  of  St. Benedict,  in  the  Abbey  of  St.  Amand,  tl  n  cciliga. 
were  tied  with  latchets." 

*'  That  will  apply  to  the  brogues,"  said  Fergus. 

**  It  will  so,  my  dear  Glennaquoich  ;  and  the  words  are 
express  t  Calig<z  dictce  suit  quia  ligafitur  ;  nam  socci  tion  ligantur, 
sediantum  introntittimtur ;  that  is,  caligce  are  denominated  from 
the  ligatures  wherewith  they  are  bound  ;  whereas  socci^  which 
may  be  analogous  to  our  mules,  whilk  the  English  denominate 
slippers,  are  only  slipped  upon  the  feet.  The  words  of  the 
charter  are  also  alternative, — exuere,  seu  deifa/iere;  that  is,  to 
undo,  as  in  the  case  of  sandals  or  brogues  ;  and  to  /«//  q^,  as 
we  say  vernacularly,  concerning  boots.  Yet  I  would  we  had 
more  light  ^  but  I  fear  there  is  little  chance  of  finding  here- 
about any  erudite  author  de  re  vesiiarid" 

"  I  should  doubt  it  very  much,"  said  the  Chieftain,  looking 
around  on  the  straggling  Highlanders,  who  were  returning 
loaded  with  spoils  of  the  slain,  "  though  the  res  vestiaria  itself 
seems  to  be  in  some  request  at  present." 

This  remark  coming  within  the  Baron's  idea  of  jocularity, 
he  honored  it  with  a  smile,  but  immediately  resumed  what  to 
him  appeared  very  serious  business. 

*'  Bailie  Macwheeble  indeed  holds  an  opinion,  that  this 
honorary  service  is  due,  from  its  very  nature,  si  petatiir  tan- 
tum ;  only  if  his  Hoyal  Highness  shall  require  of  the  great 
tenant  of  the  crown  to  perform  that  personal  duty ;  and  indeed 
he  pointed  out  the  case  in  Dirleton's  Doubts  and  Queries, 
Grippet  versus  Spicer,  anent  the  eviction  of  an  estate  ob  non 
solutum  canonem,  that  is,  for  non-payment  of  a  feu-duty  of  three 
pepper-corns  a  year,  whilk  were  taxt  to  be  worth  seven-eighths 
of  a  penny  Scots,  in  whilk  the  defender  was  assoilzied.  But  I 
deem  it  safest,  wi'  your  good  favor,  to  place  myself  in  the  way 
of  rendering  the  Prince  this  service,  and  to  proffer  performance 
thereof ;  and  I  shall  cause  the  Bailie  to  attend  with  a  schedule 
of  a  protest,  whilk  he  has  here  prepared  (taking  out  a  paper), 
intimating,  that  if  it  shall  be  his  Royal  Highness's  pleasure  to 
accept  of  other  assistance  at  pulling  off  his  caligce  (whether  tha 
same  shall  be  rendered  I  oots  or  brogues)  save  that  of  the  said 


«88  WAFER  LEY. 

Baron  of  Bradwardine,  who  is  in  presence  ready  and  willing  ta 
perform  the  same,  it  shall  in  nowise  impinge  upon  or  prejudice 
the  right  of  the  said  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine  to  perform 
the  said  service  in  future;  nor  shall  it  give  any  esquire,  valet 
of  the  chamber,  squire,  or  page,  whose  assistance  it  may  please 
his  Royal  Highness  to  employ,  any  right,  title,  or  ground,  for 
evicting  from  the  said  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine  the  estate 
and  barony  of  Bradwardine,  and  others  held  as  aforesaid,  by 
the  due  and  faithful  performance  thereof." 

Fergus  highly  applauded  this  arrangement ;  and  the  Baron 
took  a  friendly  leave  of  them,  with  a  smile  of  contented  impor- 
tance upon  his  visage. 

"  Long  live  our  dear  friend  the  Baron,"  exclaimed  the  Chief, 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  hearing,  "  for  the  most  absurd  original 
that  exists  north  of  the  Tweed  !  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had  recom- 
mended him  to  attend  the  circle  this  evening  with  a  boot-ketch 
under  his  arm.  I  think  he  might  have  adopted  the  suggestion, 
if  it  had  been  made  with  suitable  gravity." 

*'  And  how  can  you  take  pleasure  in  making  a  man  of  his 
worth  so  ridiculous  ?  " 

"  Begging  pardon,  my  dear  Waverley,  you  are  as  ridiculous 
as  he.  Why,  do  you  not  see  that  the  man's  whole  mind  is 
wrapped  up  in  this  ceremony  ?  He  has  heard  and  thought  of 
it  since  infancy,  as  the  most  august  privilege  and  ceremony  in 
the  world  ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  the  expected  pleasure  of  per- 
forming it  was  a  principal  motive  with  him  for  taking  up  arms. 
Depend  upon  it,  had  I  endeavored  to  divert  him  from  exposing 
himself,  he  would  have  treated  me  as  an  ignorant  conceited 
coxcomb,  or  perhaps  might  taken  a  fancy  to  cut  my  throat ;  a 
pleasure  which  he  once  proposed  to  himself  upon  some  point 
of  etiquette,  not  half  so  important,  in  his  eyes,  as  this  matter 
of  boots  or  brogues,  or  whatever  the  caligce  shall  finally  be  pro- 
nounced by  the  learned.  But  I  must  go  to  head-quarters  to 
prepare  the  Prince  for  this  extraordinary  scene.  My  informa- 
tion will  be  well  taken,  for  it  will  give  him  a  hearty  laugh  at 
present,  and  put  him  on  his  guard  against  laughing,  when  it 
might  be  very  tnai-a-^ropos.    So,  au  revoir,  my  dear  Waverley." 


WAVERLEY.  cl^ 

CHAPTER  FORTY-NINTH. 

THE  ENGLISH   PRISONER, 

The  first  occupation  of  Waverley,  after  he  departed  froi| 
the  Chieftain,  was  to  go  in  quest  of  the  officer  whose  Ufe  he 
had  saved.  He  was  guarded,  along  with  his  companions  in 
misfortune,  who  were  veiy  numerous,  in  a  gentleman's  house 
near  the  field  of  battle. 

On  entering  the  room  where  they  stood  cro^uded  together, 
Waverley  easily  recognized  the  object  of  his  visit,  not  only  by 
the  peculiar  dignity  of  his  appearance,  but  by  the  appendage 
of  Dugald  Mahony,  with  his  battle-axe,  who  had  stuck  to  him 
from  the  moment  of  his  captivity,  as  if  he  had  been  skewered 
to  his  side.  This  close  attendance  was,  perhaps,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  securing  his  promised  reward  from  Edward,  but  it  also 
operated  to  save  the  English  gentleman  from  being  plundered 
in  the  scene  of  general  confusion ;  for  Dugald  sagaciously  ar- 
gued, that  the  amount  of  the  salvage  which  he  might  be  allowed, 
would  be  regulated  by  the  state  of  the  prisoner,  when  he  should 
deliver  him  over  to  Waverley.  He  hastened  to  assure  Waverley, 
therefore,  with  more  words  than  he  usually  employed,  that  he 
had  "  keepit  ta  sidier  roy  haill,  and  that  he  wasna  a  plack  the 
waur  since  the  ferry  moment  when  his  honor  forbad  her  to  gie 
him  a  bit  clamhewit  wi'  her  Lochaber  axe." 

Waverley  assured  Dugald  of  a  liberal  recompense,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  English  officer,  expressed  his  anxiety  to  do  any- 
thing which  might  contribute  to  his  convenience  under  his  pres- 
ent unpleasant  circumstances. 

"  I  am  not  so  inexperienced  a  soldier,  sir,"  answered  the 
Englishman,  as  to  complain  of  the  fortune  of  war.  I  am  only 
grieved  to  see  those  scenes  acted  in  our  own  island,  which  \ 
have  often  witnessed  elsewhere  with  comparative  indifference." 

"Another  such  day  as  this,"  said  Waverley,  "and  1  trust 
tlie  cause  of  your  regrets  will  be  removed,  and  all  will  again  re- 
turn to  peace  and  order." 

The  officer  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  I  must  not  forget 
my  situation  so  far  as  to  attempt  a  formal  confutation  of  that 
opinion  ;  but,  notwithstanding  your  success,  and  the  valor  which 
achieved  it,  you  have  undertaken  a  task  to  which  your  strength 
Appears  whollj^  inadequate." 


^O  WAFER  LEY. 

At  this  moment  Fergus  pusnea  mto  the  press. 

"  Come,  Edward,  come  along  ;  the  Prince  has  gone  to  Pinkie 
house  for  the  night ;  and  we  must  follow,  or  lose  the  wholi 
ceremony  of  the  caligcB.  Your  friend,  the  Earon,  has  beer, 
guilty  of  a  great  piece  of  cruelty  ;  he  has  insisted  upon  drag- 
ging Bailie  Macwheeble  out  to  the  field  of  battle.  Now  you 
roust  know  the  Bailie's  greatest  horror  is  an  armed  Highlander, 
or  a  loaded  gun ;  and  there  he  stands,  listening  to  the  Baron's 
instructions  concerning  the  protest,  ducking  his  head  Uke  a  sea- 
gull at  the  report  of  every  gun  and  pistol  that  our  idle  boys  are 
firing  upon  the  fields ;  and  undergoing,  by  way  of  penance,  at 
ever}'  symptom  of  flinching,  a  severe  rebuke  from  his  patron, 
who  would  not  admit  the  discharge  of  a  whole  battery  of  can- 
non, within  point-blank  distance,  as  an  apology  for  neglecting 
a  discourse,  in  which  the  honor  of  his  family  is  interested." 

"  But  how  has  Mr.  Bradwardine  got  him  to  venture  so  far?  ^' 
said  Edward. 

'•  \  ,'liy,  he  had  come  as  far  as  Musselburgh,  I  fancy,  in  hopes 
of  making  some  of  our  wills  ;  and  the  peremptory  commands 
of  the  Baron  dragged  him  forward  to  Preston  after  the  battle 
was  over.  He  complains  of  one  or  two  of  our  ragamuffins  having 
put  him  in  peril  of  his  life,  by  presenting  their  pieces  at  him, 
but  as  they  limited  his  ransom  to  an  English  penny,  I  don't 
think  we  need  trouble  the  provost-marshal  upon  that  subject. 
So,  come  along,  Waverley." 

"  Waverley  !"  said  the  English  officer,  with  great  emotion  j 
♦*  the  nephew  of  Sir  Everard  Waverley,  of shire  ?  " 

"The  same,  sir,"  replied  our  hero,  somewhat  surprised  at 
the  tone  in  which  he  was  addressed. 

"  I  am  at  once  happy  and  grieved,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  to 
have  met  with  you." 

"  I  am  ignorant,  sir,"  answered  Waverley,  "  how  I  have  de- 
ierved  so  much  interest." 

"  Did  your  uncle  never  mention  a  friend  called  Talbot  ?  '* 

"  I  have  heard  him  talk,  with  great  regard  of  such  a  person," 
replied  Edward  ;  "  a  colonel,  I  believe,  in  the  army,  and  the 
husband  of  Lady  Emily  Blandeville  ;  but  I  thought  Colons/ 
Talbot  had  been  abroad." 

"  I  am  just  returned,"  answered  the  officer;  "and  being  in 
Scotland,  thought  it  my  duty  to  act  where  my  services  promised 
to  be  useful.  Yes,  Mr.  Waverley,  I  am  that  Colonel  Talbot, 
the  husband  of  the  lady  you  have  named ;  and  I  am  proud  to 
acknowledge  that  I  owe  alike  my  professional  rank  and  my 
domestic  happiness  to  your  generous  and  noble-minded  relative. 


iflrAVERLEY. 


291 


Good  God !  that  I  should  find  his  nephew  in  such  a  dress,  and 
engaged  in  such  a  cause  ! " 

"Sir,"  said  Fergus,  haughtily,  "the  dress  and  cause  are 
those  of  men  of  birth  and  honor." 

*'  My  situation  forbids  me  to  dispute  your  assertion,''  said 
Colonel  Talbot ;  "  otherwise  it  were  no  difficult  matter  to  show, 
that  neither  courage  nor  pride  of  lineage  can  gild  a  bad  cause. 
But,  with  Mr.  Waverley's  permission,  and  yours,  sir,  if  yours 
also  must  be  asked,  I  would  willingly  speak  a  few  words  with 
him  on  affairs  connected  with  his  own  family." 

*'  Mr.  Waverley,  sir,  regulates  his  own  motions. — You  will 
follow  me,  I  suppose,  to  Pinkie,"  s«id  Fergus,  turning  to  Ed- 
ward, '■  when  you  have  finished  your  discourse  with  this  new 
acquaintance  ?  "  So  saying,  the  Chief  of  Glennaquoich  adjusted 
his  plaid  with  rather  more  than  his  usual  air  of  haughty  as- 
sumption, and  left  the  apartment. 

The  interest  of  Waverley  readily  procured  for  Colonel  Tal- 
bot the  freedom  of  adjourning  to  a  large  garden  belonging  to 
his  place  of  confinement.  They  walked  a  few  paces  in  silence, 
Colonel  Talbot  apparently  studying  how  to  open  what  lie  had 
to  say  ;  at  length  he  addressed  Edward. 

*'  Mr.  Waverley,  you  have  this  day  saved  my  life  ;  and  yet 
I  would  to  God  that  I  had  lost  it,  ere  I  had  found  you  wearing 
the  uniform  and  cockade  of  these  men." 

"  I  forgive  your  reproach.  Colonel  Talbot ;  it  is  well  meant, 
and  your  education  and  prejudices  render  it  natural.  But  there 
is  nothing  extraordinary  in  finding  a  man,  whose  honor  has 
been  publicly  and  unjustly  assailed,  in  the  situation  which 
promised  most  fair  to  afford  him  satisfaction  on  his  calum- 
niators." 

"  I  should  rather  say,  in  the  situation  most  likely  to  confirm 
the  reports  which  they  have  circulated,"  said  Colonel  Talbot, 
"by  following  the  very  line  of  conduct  ascribed  to  you.  Arc 
you  aware,  Mr.  Waverley,  of  the  infinite  distress,  and  even 
danger,  which  your  present  conduct  has  occasioned  to  J'OUI 
nearest  relatives  ?  " 

"  Danger  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  danger.  When  I  left  England,  your  uncle  and 
father  had  been  obliged  to  find  bail  to  answer  a  charge  ol 
treason,  to  which  they  were  only  admitted  by  tlie  exertion  of 
the  most  powerful  interest,  I  came  down  to  Scotland,  with 
the  sole  purpose  of  rescuing  you  from  the  gulf  into  which  you 
have  precipitated  youself;  nor  can  I  estimate  the  consequences 
to  your  family  of  your  having  openly  joined  the  rebellion,  sinc« 
the  very  suspicion  of   yniir  im-nytion  was  so  perilous  to  them. 


fg2  '  WAVERLEY. 

Most  deeply  do  I  regret  that  I  did  not  meet  you  before  thi| 
last  and  fatal  error.  " 

"  I  am  really  ignorant,  "  said  Waverley  in  a  tone  of  reserve, 
"  why  Colonel  Talbot  should  have  taken  so  much  trouble  on 
my  account." 

"  Mr.  Waverley,"  answered  Talbot,  "  I  am  dull  at  appre* 
bending  irony  ;  and  therefore  I  shall  answer  your  words  accord- 
ing to  their  plain  meaning.  I  am  indebted  to  your  uncle  for 
benefits  greater  than  those  which  a  son  owes  to  a  father.  I 
acknowledge  to  him  the  duty  of  a  son  ;  and  as  I  know  there  is 
no  manner  in  which  I  can  requite  his  kindness  so  well  as  by 
serving  you,  I  will  serve  you,  if  possible,  whether  you  will  permit 
me  or  no.  The  personal  obligation  which  you  have  this  day 
laid  me  under  (although  in  common  estimation  as  great  as  one 
human  being  can  bestow  on  another)  adds  nothing  to  my  zeal 
on  your  behalf ;  nor  can  that  zeal  be  abated  by  any  coolness 
with  which  you  may  please  to  receive  it. 

"Your  intentions  may  be  kind,  sir,"  said  Waverley,  dryly  j 
"  but  your  language  is  harsh,  or  at  least  peremptory." 

"  On  my  return  to  England,"  continued  Colonel  Tafbot, 
"after  long  absence,  I  found  your  uncle,  Sir  Everard  Waverley, 
in  the  custody  of  a  king's  messenger,  in  consequence  of  the 
suspicion  brought  upon  him  by  your  conduct.  He  is  my  oldest 
friend — how  often  shall  I  repeat  it  ? — my  best  benefactor  ;  he 
sacrificed  his  own  views  of  happiness  to  mine — he  never  uttered 
a  word,  he  never  harbored  a  thought,  that  benevolence  itself 
might  not  have  thought  or  spoken.  I  found  this  man  in  con- 
finement, rendered  harsher  to  him  by  his  habits  of  life,  his 
natural  dignity  of  feeling,  and — forgive  me,  Mr.  Waverley — by 
the  cause  through  which  this  calamity  had  come  upon  him.  I 
cannot  disguise  from  you  my  feelings  upon  this  occasion ;  they 
were  most  painfully  unfavorable  to  you.  Having,  by  my 
family  interest,  which  you  probably  know  is  not  inconsiderable, 
succeeded  in  obtaining  Sir  Everard's  release,  I  set  out  for  Scot- 
land. I  saw  Colonel  Gardiner,  a  man  whose  fate  alone  is 
Buffacient  to  render  this  insurrection  for  ever  execrable.  In  the 
course  of  conversation  with  him,  I  found,  that,  from  late  cir- 
cumstances, from  a  re-examination  of  the  persons  engaged  in 
the  mutiny,  and  from  his  original  good  opinion  of  your  charac- 
ter, he  was  much  softened  towards  you  ;  and  I  doubted  not, 
that  if  I  could  be  so  fortunate  as  to  discover  you  all  might  yet 
be  well.  But  this  unnatural  rebellion  has  ruined  all.  I  have, 
for  the  first  time,  in  a  long  and  active  military  life,  seen 
Britons  disgrace  themselves  by  a  panic  flight,  and  that  before 
%  ioe  without  either  arms  or  discipline  1  and  now  I  find  tbii 


WAVE  RLE  y. 


293 


heir  of  my  clearest  friend — the  son,  I  may  say,  oi  his  affections 
— sharing  a  triumph,  for  which  he  ought  the  first  to  have  blushed. 
Why  should  I  lament  Gardiner  ?  his  lot  was  happy,  compared 
to  mine  ! " 

There  was  so  much  dignity  in  Colonel  Talbot's  manner, 
Buch  a  mixture  of  military  pride  and  manly  sorrow,  and  ll.e 
news  of  Sir  Everard's  imprisonment  was  told  in  so  deep  a 
tone  of  feeling,  that  Edward  stood  mortified,  abashed,  and 
distressed,  in  presence  of  the  prisoner,  who  owed  to  him  his 
life  not  many  hours  before.  He  was  not  sorry  when  Fergus 
interrupted  their  conference  a  second  time. 

"  His  Royal  Highness  commands  Mr.  Waverley's  attend- 
ance." Colonel  Talbot  threw  upon  Edward  a  reproachful 
glance,  which  did  not  escape  the  quick  eye  of  the  High- 
land Chief.  "His  immediate  attendance,"  he  repeated,  with 
considerable  emphasis.  Waverley  turned  again  towards  the 
Colonel. 

"  We  shall  meet  again,"  he  said  ;  "  in  the  mean  while,  every 
possible  accommodation" — 

"  I  desire  none,"  said  the  Colonel ;  let  me  fare  like  the 
meanest  of  those  brave  men,  who,  on  this  day  of  calamity, 
have  preferred  wounds  and  captivity  to  flight ;  I  would  almost 
exchange  places  with  one  of  those  who  have  fallen,  to  know 
that  my  words  have  made  a  suitable  impression  on  your  mind." 

"Let  Colonel  Talbot  be  carefully  secured,"  said  Fergus  to 
the  Highland  officer,  who  commanded  the  guards  over  the 
prisoners  ;  "  It  is  the  Prince's  particular  command  ;  he  is  a 
prisoner  of  the  utmost  importance." 

"  But  let  him  want  no  accommodation  suitable  to  his  rank," 
said  Waverley. 

"  Consistent  always  with  secure  custody,"  reiterated  Fer- 
gus. The  officer  signified  his  acquiescence  in  both  commands, 
and  Edward  followed  Fergus  to  the  garden-gate,  where  Callum 
Beg,  with  three  saddle-horses,  awaited  them.  Turning  his 
head,  he  saw  Colonel  Talbot  reconducted  to  his  place  of  com 
finement  by  a  file  of  Highlanders  ;  he  lingered  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  door,  and  made  a  signal  with  his  hand  towards 
Waverley,  as  if  enforcing  the  language  he  had  held  towards 
him. 

"  Horses,"  said  Fergus,  as  he  mounted,  "  are  now  as  plenty 
as  blackberries ;  every  man  may  have  them  for  the  catching. 
Come,  let  Callum  adjust  your  stirrups,  and  let  us  to  Pinkie- 
house'^  as  fast  as  these  ci-devant  dragoon-horses  choose  to 
cany  us." 


294  WAVEJiLEV. 

CHAPTER  FIFTIETH. 

RATHER   UNIMPORTANT. 

"  I  WAS  turned  back,"  said  Fergus  to  Edward  as  thej 
galloped  from  Preston  to  Pinkie-house,  "  by  a  message  from 
the  Prmce.  But,  I  suppose  you  know  the  value  of  this  most 
noble  Colonel  Talbot  as  a  prisoner.  He  is  held  one  of  the 
best  officers  among  the  red-coats  ;  a  special  friend  and  favorite 
of  the  Elector  himself,  and  of  that  dreadful  hero  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  who  has  been  summoned  from  his  triumphs  at 
Fontenoy,  to  come  over  and  devour  us  poor  Highlanders  alive 
Has  he  been  telling  you  how  the  bells  of  St.  James's  ring  ? 
Not  *  turn  again,  Whittington,'  like  those  of  Bow,  in  the  days 
of  yore  ?  " 

"  Fergus  !  "  said  Waverley,  with  a  reproachful  look. 

"  Nay,  I  cannot  tell  what  to  make  of  you,"  answered  the 
Chief  of  Mac-Ivor,  "  you  are  blown  about  with  every  wind  of 
doctrine.  Here  have  we  gained  a  victory  unparalleled  in  his- 
tory— and  your  behavior  is  praised  by  every  living  mortal  to 
the  skies — and  the  Prince  is  eager  to  thank  you  in  person — • 
and  all  our  beauties  of  the  White  Rose  are  pulling  caps  for 
you, — and  you,  the  praix  chevalier  of  the  day,  are  stooping  on 
your  horse's  neck  like  a  butter-woman  riding  to  market,  and 
looking  as  black  as  a  funeral." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  poor  Colonel  Gardiner's  death  :  he  was 
once  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Why,  then,  be  sorry  for  five  minutes,  and  then  be  glad 
again  ;  his  chance  to-day  may  be  ours  to-morrow.  And  what 
does  it  signify  ? — the  next  best  thing  to  victory  is  honorable 
death  ;  but  it  is  2i  J>is-aikr,  and  one  would  rather  a  foe  had  it 
than  one's  self." 

"  But  Colonel  Talbot  has  informed  me  that  my  father  and 
uncle  are  both  imprisoned  by  government  on  my  account." 

"We'll  put  in  bail,  my  boy;  old  Andrew  Ferrara ''^  shall 
lodge  his  security  ;  and  I  should  like  to  see  him  put  to  justify 
it  in  Westminster  Hall." 

"  Nay,  they  are  already  at  liberty,  upon  bail  of  a  more  civic 
disposition." 

"  Then  why  is  thy  noble  spirit  cast  down,  Edward  ?  Dost 
think  that  the  Elector's  Ministers  are  such  doves  as  to  set  theil 


Pl^AVERLEY, 


29s 


enemies  at  liberty  at  this  critical  moment,  if  they  could  or  durst 
confine  and  punish  them  ?  Assure  thyself  that  either  they  have 
no  charge  against  your  relations  on  which  they  can  continue 
their  imprisonment,  or  else  they  are  afraid  of  our  friends,  the 
jolly  cavaliers  of  old  England.  At  any  rate,  you  need  not  be 
apprehensive  upon  their  account ;  and  we  will  find  some  means 
of  conveying  to  them  assurances  of  your  safety." 

Edward  was  silenced  but  not  satisfied  with  these  reasons. 
He  had  now  been  more  than  once  shocked  at  the  small  degree 
of  sympathy  which  Fergus  exhibited  for  the  feelings  even  oi 
those  whom  he  loved,  if  they  did  not  correspond  with  his  own 
mood  at  the  time,  and  more  especially  if  they  thwarted  him 
while  earnest  in  a  favorite  pursuit.  Fergus  sometimes  indeed 
observed  that  he  had  offended  Waverley,  but,  always  intent 
upon  some  favorite  plan  or  project  of  his  own,  he  was  never 
sufficiently  aware  of  the  extent  or  duration  of  his  displeasure,* 
so  that  the  reiteration  of  these  petty  offences  somewhat  cooled 
the  volunteer's  extreme  attachment  to  his  officer. 

The  Chevalier  received  Waverley  with  his  usual  favor,  and 
paid  him  many  compliments  on  his  distinguished  bravery.  He 
then  took  him  apart,  made  many  inquires  concerning  Colonel 
Talbot,  gnd  when  he  had  received  all  the  information  which 
Edward  was  able  to  give  concerning  him  and  his  connections, 
he  proceeded, — "  I  cannot  but  think,  Mr.  Waverley,  that  since 
this  gentleman  is  so  particularly  connected  with  our  worthy 
and  excellent  friend,  Sir  Everard  Waverley,  and  since  his  lady 
is  of  the  house  of  Blandeville,  whose  devotion  to  the  true  and 
loyal  principles  of  the  Church  of  England  is  so  generally 
known,  the  Colonel's  own  private  sentiments  cannot  be  un- 
favorable to  us,  whatever  mask  he  may  have  assumed  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  the  times." 

"  If  I  am  to  judge  from  the  language  he  this  day  held  to 
me,  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  differing  widely  from  your 
Royal  Highness." 

"  Well,  it  is  worth  making  a  trial  at  least.  I  therefore  en- 
trust you  with  the  charge  of  Colonel  Talbot,  with  power  to  act 
concerning  him  as  you  think  most  advisable  ; — and  I  hope  you 
will  find  means  of  ascertaining  what  are  his  real  dispositions 
towards  our  Royal  Father's  restoration." 

*'  i  am  convinced,"  said  Waverley,  bowing,  "  that  if  Colonel 
Talbot  chooses  to  grant  his  parole,  it  may  be  securely  depended 
Bpon  ;  but  if  he  refuses  it,  I  trust  your  Royal  Highness  will 
devolve  on  some  other  person  than  the  nephew  of  his  frienc^ 
the  task  of  laying  him  under  the  necessary  restraint." 


2f)6  WAVERLEY. 

"  I  will  trust  him  with  no  person  but  you,"  said  the  Princft 
smiling,  but  peremptorily  repeating  his  mandate  :  "it  is  of  im- 
portance to  my  service  that  there  should  appear  to  be  a  good 
intelligence  between  you,  even  if  you  are  unable  to  gain  his 
confidence  in  earnest.  You  will  therefore  receive  him  into 
your  quarters,  and  in  case  he  declines  giving  his  parole,  you 
must  apply  for  a  proper  guard.  I  beg  you  will  go  about  this 
directly.     We  return  to  Edinburgh  to-morrow." 

Being  thus  remanded  to  the  vicinity  of  Preston,  Waverley 
lost  the  Earon  of  Bradwardine's  solemn  act  of  homage.  So 
little,  however,  was  he  at  this  time  in  love  with  vanity,  that  he 
had  quite  forgotten  the  ceremony  in  which  Fergus  had  labored 
to  engage  his  curiosity.  But  next  day  a  formal  Gazette  was 
circulated,  containing  a  detailed  account  of  the  battle  of  Glads- 
muir,  as  the  Highlanders  chose  to  denominate  their  victory. 
It  concluded  with  an  account  of  the  Court  afterwards  held  by 
the  Chevalier  at  Pinkie-house,  which  contained  this  among 
other  high-flown  descriptive  paragraphs  : — 

"  Since  that  fatal  treaty  which  annihilates  Scotland  as  an 
independent  nation,  it  has  not  been  our  happiness  to  see  her 
princes  receive,  and  her  nobles  discharge,  those  acts  of  feudal 
homage,  which,  founded  upon  the  splendid  actions  of  Scottish 
valor,  recall  the  memory  of  her  early  history,  with  the  manly 
and  chivalrous  simplicity  of  the  ties  which  united  to  the  Crown 
the  homage  of  the  warriors  by  whom  it  was  repeatedly  upheld 
and  defended.  But  on  the  evening  of  the  20th,  our  memories 
were  refreshed  with  one  of  those  ceremonies  which  belong  to 
the  ancient  days  of  Scotland's  glory.  After  the  circle  was 
formed,  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine,  of  that  ilk,  colonel  in  the 
sen'ice,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  came  before  the  Prince,  attended  by  Mr. 
D.  Macwheeble,  the  Bailie  of  his  ancient  barony  of  Bradwar- 
dine (who,  we  understand,  has  been  lately  named  a  commis- 
sar)'), and,  under  form  of  instrument,  claimed  permission  to 
perform,  to  the  person  of  his  Royal  Highness,  as  representing 
his  father,  the  service  used  and  wont,  for  which,  under  a  char- 
ter of  Robert  Bruce  (of  which  the  original  was  produced  and 
inspected  by  the  Masters  of  his  Royal  Highness's  Chancery, 
for  the  time  being),  the  claimant  held  the  barony  of  Bradwar- 
dine, and  lands  of  Tully-Veolan.  His  claim  being  admitted 
and  registered,  his  Royal  Highness  having  placed  his  foot  upon 
a  cushion,  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  kneeling  upon  his  right 
knee,  proceeded  to  undo  the  latchet  of  the  brogue,  or  low-heeled 
Highland  shoe,  which  our  gallant  young  hero  wears  in  compli- 
ment to  his  brave  followers.     When  this  was  performed,  his 


U^AVERLEY. 


297 


Royal  Highness  declared  the  ceremony  completed ;  and  em- 
bracing  the  gallant  veteran,  protested  that  nothing  but  com« 
piiance  with  an  ordinance  of  Robert  Bruce  could  have  induced 
him  to  receive  even  the  symbolical  performance  of  a  menial 
office  from  hands  which  had  fought  so  bravely  to  put  the  crown 
upon  the  head  of  his  father.  The  Baron  of  Bradwardine  then 
took  instruments  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Commissary  Macwhee 
ble,  bearing,  that  all  points  and  circumstances  of  the  act  ol 
homage  had  been  riie  et  solentiiter  acta  et  perada  ;  and  a  cor- 
responding entry  was  made  in  the  protocol  of  the  Lord  High 
Chamberlain,  and  in  the  record  of  Chancery.  We  understand 
that  it  is  in  contemplation  of  his  Royal  Highness,  when  his 
Majesty's  pleasure  can  be  known,  to  raise  Colonel  Bradwardine 
to  the  peerage,  by  the  title  of  Viscount  Bradwardine,  of  Brad- 
wardine and  TuUy-Veolan,  and  that,  in  the  mean  while,  his 
Royal  Highness,  in  his  father's  name  and  authority,  has  been 
pleased  to  grant  him  an  honorable  augmentation  to  his  paternal 
coat  of  arm,  being  a  budget  or  boot-jack,  disposed  saltier-wise 
with  a  naked  broadsword,  to  be  borne  in  the  dexter  cantle  of 
the  shield  ;  and,  as  an  additional  motto,  on  a  scroll  beneath, 
the  words,  '  Draw  and  Draw  off^  " 

"  Were  it  not  for  the  recollection  of  Fergus's  raillery," 
thought  Waverley  to  himself,  when  he  had  perused  this  long 
and  grave  document,  "  how  very  tolerable  would  all  this  sound, 
and  how  little  should  I  have  thought  of  connecting  it  with  any 
ludicrous  idea  !  Well,  after  all,  everything  has  its  fair,  as  well  as 
its  seamy  side  ;  and  truly  I  do  not  see  why  the  Baron's  boot- 
jack  may  not  stand  as  fair  in  heraldry  as  the  water-buckets, 
wagons,  cart-wheels,  plough-socks,  shuttles,  candlesticks,  and 
other  ordinaries,  conveying  ideas  of  anything  save  chivalry, 
which  appear  in  the  arms  of  some  of  our  most  ancient  gentry." 
— This,  however,  is  an  episode  in  respect  to  the  principal  story 

When  Waverley  returned  to  Preston,  and  rejoined  Colonel 
Talbot,  he  found  him  recovered  from  the  strong  and  obvious 
emotions  with  which  a  concurrence  of  unpleasing  events  had 
affected  him.  He  had  regained  his  natural  manner,  which  was 
that  of  an  English  gentleman  and  soldier,  manly,  open,  and  gen- 
erous, but  not  unsusceptible  of  prejudice  against  those  of  a  dif- 
ferent country,  or  who  opposed  him  in  political  tenets.  When 
Waverley  acquainted  Colonel  Talbot  with  the  Chevalier's  pur- 
pose to  commit  him  to  his  charge,  "  I  did  not  think  to  have  owed 
so  much  oWigation  to  that  young  gentleman,"  he  said,  "  as  is  im- 
plied in  this  destination.  I  can  at  least  cheerfully  join  in  the 
prayer  of  >he  honest  Presbyterian  clergyman,  that,  as  he  hai 


fgS  WAVER  LEY. 

come  among  us  seeking  an  earthly  crown,  his  labors  may  b< 
speedily  rewarded  with  a  heavenly  one/"  I  shall  willingly  give 
my  parole  not  to  attempt  an  escape  without  your  knowledge, 
since,  in  fact,  it  was  to  meet  you  that  I  came  to  Scotland  ;  and 
I  am  glad  it  has  happened  even  under  this  predicament.  But 
I  suppose  we  shall  be  but  a  short  time  together.  Your  Chev- 
alier (that  is  a  name  we  may  both  give  to  him),  with  his  plaids 
antl  blue-caps,  will,  I  presume,  be  continuing  his  crusade  south- 
<vard  ?  " 

"  Not  as  I  hear  ;  I  believe  the  army  makes  some  stay  id 
Edinburgh,  to  collect  reinforcements." 

*'  And  to  besiege  the  Castle  ?  "  said  Talbot,  smiling  sarcas- 
tically. "  Well,  unless  my  old  commander,  General  Preston, 
turn  false  metal,  or  the  Castle  sink  into  the  North  Loch,  events 
which  I  deem  equally  probable,  I  think  we  shall  have  some 
time  to  make  up  our  acquaintance.  I  have  a  guess  that  this 
gallant  Chevalier  has  a  design  that  I  should  be  your  proselyte ; 
and,  as  I  wish  you  to  be  mine,  there  cannot  be  a  more  fair  pro- 
posal than  to  afford  us  fair  conference  together.  But  as  I  spoke 
to-day  under  the  influence  of  feelings  I  rarely  give  way  to,  I 
hope  you  will  excuse  my  entering  again  upon  controversy  till 
we  are  somewhat  better  acquainted." 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-FIRST. 

INTRIGUE  OF   LOVE  AND   POLITICS. 

It  Is  not  necessary  to  record  in  these  pages  ths  triumphant 
entrance  of  the  Chevalier  into  Edinburgh  after  the  decisive 
affair  of  Preston.  One  circumstance,  however,  may  be  noticed 
because  it  illustrates  the  high  spirit  of  Flora  Mac-Ivor.  The 
Highlanders,  by  whom  the  Prince  was  surrounded,  in  the  license 
and  extravagance  of  this  joyful  moment,  fired  their  pieces  re- 
peatedly, and  one  of  these  having  been  accidentally  loaded  with 
ball,  the  bullet  grazed  the  young  lady's  temple  as  she  waved 
her  handkerchief  from  a  balcony.^^  Fergus,  who  beheld  the 
accident,  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant ;  and,  on  seeing  that  the 
wound  was  trifling,  he  drew  his  broadsword,  with  the  purpose 
of  rushing  down  upon  the  man  by  whose  carelessness  she  had 
incurred  so  much  danger,  when,  holding  hiin  by  the  plaid.  ' '  Do 


WAVER  LEY. 


299 


ft«9t  harm  the  poor  fellow,"  she  cried  ;  "  for  Heaven's  sake  do 
not  harm  him  !  but  thank  God  with  me  that  the  accident  hap- 
pened to  Flora  Mac-Ivor;  for  had  it  befallen  a  Whig,  they 
would  have  pretended  that  the  shot  was  fired  on  purpose." 

Waverley  escaped  the  alarm  which  this  accident  would  have 
occasioned  to  him,  as  he  was  unavoidably  delayed  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  accompanying  Colonel  Talbot  to  Edinburgh. 

They  performed  the  journey  together  on  horseback,  and  fof 
some  time,  as  if  to  sound  each  other's  feelings  and  sentiments, 
they  conversed  upon  general  and  ordinary  topics. 

When  Waverley  again  entered  upon  the  subject  which  he 
had  most  at  heart,  the  situation,  namely,  of  his  father  and  his 
uncle,  Colonel  Talbot  seemed  now  rather  desirous  to  alleviate 
than  to  aggravate  his  anxiety.  This  appeared  particularly  to  be 
the  case  when  he  heard  Waverley's  history,  which  he  did  not 
scruple  to  confide  to  him. 

"  And  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  there  has  been  no  malice 
prepense,  as  lawyers,  I  think,  term  it,  in  this  rash  step  of  yours  j 
and  you  have  been  trepanned  into  the  service  of  this  Italian 
knight-errant  by  a  few  civil  speeches  from  him,  and  one  or  two 
of  his  Highland  recruiting  sergeants?  It  is  sadly  foolish,  to 
be  sure,  but  not  nearly  so  bad  as  I  was  led  to  expect.  How- 
ever, you  cannot  desert,  even  from  the  Pretender,  at  the  pres* 
ent  moment, — that  seems  impossible.  But  I  have  little  doubt 
that,  in  the  dissensions  incident  to  this  heterogeneous  mass  of 
wild  and  desperate  men,  some  opportunity  may  arise,  by  avail- 
ing yourself  of  which,  you  may  extricate  yourself  honorably 
from  your  rash  engagement  before  the  bubble  burst.  If  this 
can  be  managed,  I  would  have  you  go  to  a  place  of  safety  in 
Flanders,  which  I  shall  point  out.  And  I  think  I  can  secure 
your  pardon  from  Government  after  a  few  months'  residence 
abroad." 

"  I  cannot  permit  you,  Colonel  Talbot,"  answered  Wa- 
verley, "  to  speak  of  any  plan  which  turns  on  my  deserting  an 
enterprise  in  which  I  may  have  engaged  hastily,  but  certainly 
voluntarily,  and  with  the  purpose  of  abiding  the  issue." 

"Well,"  said  Colonel  Talbot,  smiling,  "leave  me  my 
thoughts  and  hopes  at  least  at  liberty,  if  not  my  speech.  IJut 
bave  you  never  examined  your  mysterious  packet  ?  " 

"  It  is  in  my  baggage,"  replied  Edward;  "we  shall  find  it 
in  Edinburgh." 

In  Edinburgh  they  soon  arrived.  Waverley's  quarters  had 
been  assigned  to  him,  by  the  Prince's  express  orders,  in  a  hand- 
ftome   lodging,  where  there  was  accommodation  for  Colonel 


joo  WAVERLEY 

Talbot.  His  first  business  was  to  examine  his  portmanteat^ 
and,  after  a  very  short  search,  out  tumbled  the  expected  packet 
Waverley  opened  it  eagerly.  Under  a  blank  cover,  simply  ad' 
dressed  to  E.  Waverley,  Esq.,  he  found  a  number  of  open  letters. 
The  uppermost  were  two  from  Colonel  Gardiner,  addressed  tO 
himself.  The  earliest  in  date  was  a  kind  and  gentle  remon 
strance  for  neglect  of  the  writer's  advice  respecting  the  disposal 
of  his  time  during  his  leave  of  absence, — the  renewal  of  which, 
he  reminded  Captain  Waverley,  would  speedily  expire.  "  In- 
deed," the  letter  proceeded,  "had  it  been  otherwise,  the  news 
from  abroad,  and  my  instructions  from  the  War  Office,  must 
have  compelled  me  to  recall  it,  as  there  is  great  danger,  since 
the  disaster  in  Flanders,  both  of  foreign  invasion  and  insurrec- 
tion among  the  disaffected  at  home.  I  therefore  entreat  you 
will  repair,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  the  head-quarters  of  the  regi- 
ment ;  and  I  am  concerned  to  add,  that  this  is  still  the  more 
necessary,  as  there  is  some  discontent  in  your  troop,  and  I 
postpone  inquiry  into  particulars  until  I  can  have  the  advantage 
of  your  assistance." 

The  second  letter,  dated  eight  days  later,  was  in  such  a  style 
as  might  have  been  expected  from  the  Colonel's  receiving  no 
answer  to  the  first.  It  reminded  Waverley  of  his  duty  as  a  man 
of  honor,  an  officer,  and  a  Briton  ;  took  notice  of  the  increasing 
dissatisfaction  of  his  men,  and  that  some  of  them  had  been 
heard  to  hint  that  their  captain  encouraged  and  approved  of 
their  mutinous  behavior  ;  and,  finally,  the  writer  expressed  the 
utmost  regret  ard  surprise  that  he  had  not  obeyed  his  com- 
mands by  repairing  to  head-quarters,  reminded  him  that  his 
leave  of  absence  had  been  recalled,  and  conjured  him,  in  a 
style  in  which  paternal  remonstrance  was  mingled  with  military 
authority,  to  redeem  his  error  by  immediately  joining  his  regi- 
ment. "  That  I  may  be  certain,"  concluded  the  letter,  "  that 
this  actually  reaches  you,  I  despatch  it  by  Corporal  Tims,  of 
your  troop,  with  orders  to  deliver  it  into  your  own  hand." 

Upon  reading  these  letters,  Waverley,  with  great  bitterness 
of  feeling,  was  compelled  to  make  the  amende  honorable  to  the 
memory  (jf  the  brave  and  excellent  writer ;  for,  surely,  as  Col- 
onel Gardiner  must  have  had  every  reason  to  conclude  they  had 
come  safely  to  hand,  less  could  not  follow,  on  their  being  neg- 
lected, than  that  third  and  final  summons,  which  Waverley 
actually  received  at  Glennaquoich,  though  too  late  to  obey  it. 
And  his  being  superseded,  in  consequence  of  his  apparent 
neglect  of  this  last  command,  was  so  far  from  being  a  harsh  or 
severe  proceeding,  that  it  was  plainly  inevitable.     The  next 


WAVERLEY.  ^O, 

fetter  he  unfoMed  was  from  the  Major  of  the  regiment,  acquaint 
ing  him  that  a  report,  to  the  disadvantage  of  his  reputation, 
was  pubHc  in  the  country,  stating,  that  one  Mr.  Falconer  o< 
Ballihopple,  or  some  such  name,  had  proposed,  in  his  presence, 
a  treasonable  toast,  which  he  permitted  to  pass  in  silence, 
although  it  was  so  gross  an  affront  to  the  royal  family,  that  S 
gentleman  in  company,  not  remarkable  for  his  zeal  for  govern- 
ment, had  nevertheless  taken  the  matter  up  ;  and  that,  suppos- 
ing the  account  true.  Captain  Waverley  had  thus  suffered 
another,  comparatively  unconcerned,  to  resent  an  affront 
directed  against  him  personally  as  an  officer,  and  to  go  out  with 
the  person  by  whom  it  was  offered.  The  Major  concluded,  that 
no  one  of  Captain  Waverley's  brother-officers  could  believe  this 
scandalous  story,  but  it  was  necessarily  their  joint  opinion,  that 
his  own  honor,  equally  with  ihat  of  the  regiment,  depended 
upon  its  being  instantly  contradicted  by  his  authority,  etc.,  etc. 
etc. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  all  this  ?  "  said  Colonel  Talbot,  to 
whom  Waverley  handed  the  letters  after  he  had  perused  them. 

"  Think  !  it  renders  thought  impossible.  It  is  enough  to 
drive  me  mad." 

"  Be  calm,  my  young  friend  \  let  us  see  what  are  these  dirty 
scrawls  that  follow." 

The  first  was  addressed,  "  For  Master  W.  Ruffin  These," 

"  Dear  sur,  sum  of  our  yong  gulpins  will  not  bite,  thof  I 
tuold  them  you  shoed  me  the  squoires  own  seel.  But  Tims  will 
deliver  you  the  lettrs  as  desired,  and  tell  ould  Addem  he  gave 
them  to  squoir's  bond,  as  to  be  sure  yours  is  the  same,  and  shall 
be  ready  for  signal,  and  hoy  for  Hoy  Church  and  Sachefrel,* 
as  fadur  sings  at  harvest  whome.     Yours,  deer  sur,       H.  H. 

*'  Poscriff.  Do'e  tell  squoire  we  longs  to  heer  from  him, 
and  has  dootings  about  his  not  writing  himself,  and  Lieftenant 
Bottler  is  smoky." 

"This  Ruffin,  I  suppose,  then,  is  your  Donald  of  the  Cav* 
em,  who  has  intercepted  your  letters,  and  carried  on  a  corres- 
pondence with  the  poor  devil  Houghton,  as  if  under  your 
authority !  " 

"  It  seems  too  true.     But  who  can  Addem  be  ? " 
"  Possibly  Adam,  for  poor  Gardiner,  a  sort  of  pun  on  his 
name." 

*[Henry  Sacheverel!,  D.  D.,  w^s  a  violent  high-churcliman,  who,  in  f/io,  was  IrapeacheJ 
or  an  attack  made  on  the  Godolphin  Whit  ministry.     He  afterwards  bccama  very  popular.! 


joa 


WAVERLEY. 


The  other  letters  were  to  the  same  purpose,  and  they  soon 
received  yet  more  complete  light  upon  Donald  Bean's  machina* 
tions. 

John  Hodgess,  one  of  Waverley's  servants,  who  had  remained 
with  the  regiment,  and  had  been  taken  at  Preston,  now  nade 
his  appearance.  He  had  sought  out  his  master,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  again  entering  his  Service.  From  this  fellow  they 
learned,  that,  some  time  after  Waverley  had  gone  from  the 
head-quarters  of  the  tegiment,  a  pedlar,  called  Ruthven,  Ruffin, 
or  Rivane,  known  among  the  soldiers  by  the  name  of  Wily  Will, 
had  made  frequent  visits  to  the  town  of  Dundee.  He  appeared 
to  possess  plenty  of  money,  sold  his  commodities  very  cheap, 
seemed  always  willing  to  treat  his  friends  at  the  ale-house,  and 
easily  ingratiated  himself  with  many  of  Waverley's  troop,  par- 
ticularly Sergeant  Houghton,  and  one  Tims,  also  a  non-commis- 
sioned officer.  To  these  he  unfolded,  in  Waverley's  name,  a 
plan  for  leaving  the  regiment,  and  joining  him  in  the  Highlands, 
where  report  said  the  clans  had  already  taken  arms  in  great 
numbers.  The  men,  who  had  been  educated  as  Jacobites,  so 
far  as  they  had  any  opinion  at  all,  and  who  knew  their  landlord. 
Sir  Everard,  had  always  been  supposed  to  hold  such  tenets, 
easily  fell  into  the  snare.  That  Waverley  was  at  a  distance  in 
the  Highlands,  was  received  as  a  sufficient  excuse  for  transmit- 
ting  his  letters  through  the  medium  of  the  pedlar ;  and  the  sight 
of  his  well-known  seal  seemed  to  authenticate  the  negotiations 
in  his  name,  where  writing  might  have  been  dangerous.  The 
cabal,  however,  began  to  take  air,  from  the  premature  mutinous 
language  of  those  concerned.  Wily  Will  justified  his  appella- 
tive ;  for,  after  suspicion  arose,  he  was  seen  no  more.  When 
the  Gazette  appeared,  in  which  Waverley  was  superseded,  great 
part  of  his  troop  broke  out  into  actual  mutiny,  but  were  sur- 
rounded and  disarmed  by  die  rest  of  the  regiment.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  sentence  of  a  court-martial,  Houghton  and  Tims 
were  condemned  to  be  shot,  but  afterwards  permitted  to  cast 
lots  for  life.  Houghton,  the  sur\i.or,  showed  much  jDenitence, 
being  convinced  from  the  rebukes  and  explanations  of  Colonel 
Gardiner,  that  he  had  really  engaged  in  a  very  heinous  crime. 
It  is  remarkable,  that,  as  soon  as  the  poor  fellow  was  satisfied 
of  this,  he  became  also  convinced  that  the  instigator  had  acted 
without  authority  from  Edward,  saying,  "  If  it  was  dishonorable 
and  against  Old  England,  the  squire  could  know  nought  about 
it ;  he  never  did,  or  thought  to  do,  anything  dishonorable, — no 
more  didn't  Sir  Everard,  nor  none  of  them  afore  him,  and  in 
that  belief  he  would  live  and  die  that  Ruffin  had  done  it  all  of 
his  own  headc" 


WAVER  LEY. 


303 


The  strength  of  conviction  with  which  he  expressed  himself 
upon  this  subject,  as  well  as  his  assurances  that  the  letters 
intended  for  Waverley  had  been  delivered  to  Ruthven,  made 
that  revolution  in  Colonel  Gardiner's  opinion  which  he  ex- 
pressed to  Talbot. 

The  reader  has  long  since  understood  that  Donald  Bean 
Lean  played  the  part  of  tempter  on  this  occasion.  His  motives 
were  shortly  these.  Of  an  active  and  intriguing  spirit,  he  had 
been  long  employed  as  a  subaltern  agent  and  spy  by  those  in 
the  confidence  of  the  Chevalier,  to  an  extent  beyond  what  was 
suspected  even  by  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,  whom,  though  obliged  to 
him  for  protection,  he  regarded  with  fear  and  dislike.  To  suc- 
cess in  this  political  department,  he  naturally  looked  for  raising 
himself  by  some  bold  stroke  above  his  present  hazardous  and 
precarious  state  of  rapine.  He  was  particularly  employed  in 
learning  the  strength  of  the  regiments  in  Scotland,  the  charac- 
ter of  the  officers,  etc.,  and  had  long  had  his  eye  upon  Waver- 
ley's  troop,  as  open  to  temptation.  Donald  even  believed  that 
Waverley  himself  was  at  bottom  in  the  Stuart  interest,  which 
seemed  confirmed  by  his  long  visit  to  the"  Jacobite  Baron  of 
Bradwardine.  When,  therefore,  he  came  to  his  cave  with  one 
of  Glennaquoich's  attendants,  the  robber,  who  could  never  ap- 
preciate his  real  motive,  whiclr  was  mere  curiosity,  was  so  san- 
guine as  to  hope  that  his  own  talents  were  to  be  employed  in 
some  intrigue  of  consequence,  under  the  auspices  of  this  wealthy 
young  Englishman.  Nor  was  he  undeceived  by  Waverley's  neg- 
lecting all  hints  and  openings  for  an  explanation.  His  con- 
duct passed  for  prudent  reserve,  and  somewhat  piqued  Donald 
Bean,  who,  supposing  himself  left  out  of  a  secret  where  confi- 
dence promised  to  be  advantageous,  determined  to  have  his 
share  in  the  drama,  whether  a  regular  part  were  assigned  him 
or  not.  For  this  purpose,  during  Waverley's  sleep,  he  possessed 
himself  of  his  seal,  as  a  token  to  be  used  to  any  of  the  troopers 
whom  he  might  discover  to  be  possessed  of  the  captain's  confi 
dence.  His  first  journey  to  Dundee,  the  town  where  the  regiment 
was  quartered,  undeceived  him  in  his  original  supposition,  but 
opened  to  him  a  new  field  of  action.  He  knew  there  would  be 
no  service  so  well  rewarded  by  the  friends  of  the  Chevalier,  as 
seducing  a  part  of  the  regular  army  to  his  standard.  For  this 
purpose,  he  opened  the  machinations  with  which  the  reader  is 
already  acquainted,  and  which  form  a  clue  to  all  the  intricacies 
and  obscurities  of  the  narrative  previous  to  Waverley's  leaving 
Glennaquoich. 

By  Colonel  Talbot's  advice,  Waverley  declined  detaining  in 


304 


WAVERLEY, 


his  service  the  lad  whose  evidence  had  thrown  additional  light 
on  these  intrigues.  He  represented  to  him  that  it  would  be 
doing  the  man  an  injury  to  engage  him  in  a  desperate  under- 
taking, and  that,  whatever  should  happen,  liis  evidence  would 
go  some  length,  at  least,  in  explaining  the  circumstances  under 
which  Waverley  himself  had  embarked  in  it.  Waverley  there- 
fore wrote  a  short  statement  of  what  had  happened,  to  his  uncle 
and  his  father,  cautioning  them,  however,  in  the  present  circum- 
stances, not  to  attempt  to  answer  his  letter.  Talbot  then  gave 
the  young  man  a  letter  to  the  commander  of  one  of  the  English 
vessels  of  war  cruising  in  the  firth,  requesting  him  to  put  the 

bearer  ashore  at  Berwick,  with  a  pass  to  proceed  to shire. 

He  was  then  furnished  with  money  to  make  an  expeditious 
journey,  and  directed  to  get  on  board  the  ship  by  means  of 
bribing  a  fishing-boat,  which,  as  they  afterwards  learned,  he 
easily  effected. 

Tired  of  the  attendance  of  Galium  Beg,  who,  he  thought, 
had  some  disposition  to  act  as  a  spy  on  his  motions,  Waverley 
hired  as  a  servant,  a  simple  Edinburgh  swain,  who  had  mounted 
the  white  cockade  in  a  fit  of  spleen  and  jealousy,  because  Jenny 
Jop  had  danced  a  whole  night  with  Corporal  Bullock  of  the 
Fusileers. 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-SECOND. 

INTRIGUES  OF  SOCIETY  AND  LOVE. 

Colonel  Talbot  became  more  kindly  in  his  demeanor 
towards  Waverley  after  the  confidence  he  had  reposed  in  him ; 
and  as  they  were  necessarily  much  together,  the  character  ol 
the  Colonel  rose  in  Waverley's  estimation.  There  seemed  at 
first  something  harsh  in  his  strong  expressions  of  dislike  and 
censure,  although  no  one  was  in  the  general  case  more  open  to 
conviction.  The  habit  of  authority  had  also  given  his  manners 
some  peremptory  hardness,  notwithstanding  the  polish  which 
they  had  received  from  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
higher  circles.  As  i  specimen  of  the  military  character,  he 
differed  from  all  whom  Waverley  had  as  yet  seen.  The  soldier- 
ship of  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  was  marked  by  pedantry ; 
that  of  Major  Melville  by  a  sort  of  martinet  attention  to  the 
minutiae  and  technicalities  of  discipline,  rather  siii>  ble  to  one 


WAVER  LEV. 


305 


who  was  to  manoeuvre  a  battalion,  than  to  him  who  was  to 
command  an  army ;  the  military  spirit  of  Fergus  was  so  much 
warped  and  blended  with  his  plans  and  political  views,  that  it 
was  less  that  of  a  soldier  than  of  petty  a  sovereign.  But  Col- 
onel Talbot  was  in  every  point  the  English  soldier.  His  whole 
soul  was  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  king  and  country,  with* 
out  feeling  any  pride  in  knowing  the  theory  of  his  art,  with  the 
Baron,  or  its  practical  minutiae  with  the  Major,  or  in  applying 
his  science  to  his  own  particular  plans  of  ambition,  like  the 
Chieftain  of  Glennaquoich.  Added  to  this,  he  was  a  man  of 
extended  knowledge  and  cultivated  taste,  although  strongly 
tinged,  as  we  have  already  observed,  with  those  prejudices 
which  are  peculiarly  English. 

The  character  of  Colonel  Talbot  dawned  upon  Edward  by 
degrees ;  for  the  delay  of  the  Highlanders  in  the  fruitless  siege 
of  Edinburgh  Castle  occupied  several  weeks,  during  which  Wa- 
verley  had  little  to  do,  excepting  to  seek  such  amusement  as 
society  afforded.  He  would  willingly  have  persuaded  his  new 
friend  to  become  acquainted  with  some  of  his  former  intimates. 
But  the  Colonel,  after  one  or  two  visits,  shook  his  head,  and 
declined  farther  experiment.  Indeed  he  went  farther,  and 
characterized  the  Baron  as  the  most  intolerable  formal  pendant 
he  had  ever  had  the  misfortune  to  meet  with,  and  the  Chief  of 
Glennaquoich  as  a  Frenchified  Scotchman,  possessing  all  the 
cunning  and  plausibility  of  the  nation  where  he  was  educated, 
with  the  proud,  vindictive,  and  turbulent  humor  of  that  of  his 
birth.  "  If  the  devil,"  he  said,  "  had  sought  out  an  agent  ex- 
pressly for  the  purpose  of  embroiling  this  miserable  country,  I 
do  not  think  he  could  find  a  better  than  such  a  fellow  as  this, 
whose  temper  seems  equally  active,  supple,  and  mischievous, 
and  who  is  followed,  and  implicitly  obeyed,  by  a  gang  of  such 
cut-throats  as  those  whom  you  are  pleased  to  admire  so  much." 

The  ladies  of  the  party  did  not  escape  his  censure.  He 
allowed  that  Flora  Mac-Ivor  was  a  fine  woman,  and  Rose  Brad- 
wardine  a  pretty  girl.  But  he  alleged  that  the  former  destroyed 
the  effect  of  her  beauty  by  an  affectation  of  the  grand  airs 
which  she  had  probably  seen  practiced  at  the  mock  court  of 
SL  Germains.  As  for  Rose  Bradwardine,  he  said  it  was  im- 
possible for  any  mortal  to  admire  such  a  little  uninformed 
thing,  whose  small  portion  of  education  was  as  ill  adapted  to 
her  sex  or  youth,  as  if  she  had  appeared  with  one  of  her 
father's  old  campaign-coats  upon  her  person  for  her  sole  gar- 
nient.  Now  much  of  this  was  mere  spleen  and  prejudice  ia 
the  excellent  Colonel,  with  whom  the  white  cockade  on  th< 


306  lVAV£RL£y. 

breast,  the  white  rose  in  the  hair,  and  the  Mac  at  the  beginning 
of  a  name,  would  have  made  a  devil  out  of  an  angel ;  and  in- 
deed he  himself  jocularly  allowed  that  he  could  not  have  en- 
dured Venus  herself,  if  she  had  been  announced  in  a  drawing- 
room  by  the  name  of  Miss  Mac-Jupiter. 

Waverley,  it  may  easily  be  believed,  looked  upon  these 
young  ladies  with  ver}'^  different  eyes.  During  the  period  of  the 
siege,  he  paid  them  almost  daily  visits,  although  .he  observed 
with  regret  that  his  suit  made  as  little  progress  in  the  affections 
of  the  former  as  the  arms  of  the  Chevalier  in  subduing  the 
fortress.  She  maintained  with  rigor  the  rule  she  had  laid  down 
of  treating  him  with  indifference,  wdthout  either  affecting  to 
avoid  him,  or  to  shun  intercourse  with  him.  Every  word,  every 
look  was  strictly  regulated  to  accord  with  her  system,  and 
neither  the  dejection  of  Waverley,  nor  the  anger  which  Fergus 
scarcely  suppressed,  could  extend  Flora's  attention  to  Edward 
beyond  that  which  the  most  ordinarv'  politeness  demanded. 
On  the  other  hand.  Rose  Bradwardine  gradually  rose  in  Wa- 
verley's  opinion.  He  had  several  opportunities  of  remarking, 
that,  as  her  extreme  timidity  wore  off,  her  manners  received  a 
higher  character ;  that  the  agitating  circumstances  of  the 
stormy  time  seemed  to  call  forth  a  certain  dignity  of  feeling 
and  expression,  which  he  had  not  formerly  observed  ;  and  that 
she  omitted  no  opportunity  within  her  reach  to  extend  her 
knowledge  and  refine  her  taste. 

Flora  Mac-Ivor  called  Rose  her  pupil,  and  was  attentive  to 
assist  her  in  her  studies,  and  to  fashion  both  her  taste  and  un- 
derstanding. It  might  have  been  remarked  by  a  very  close 
observer,  that  in  the  presence  of  Waverley  she  was  much  more 
desirous  to  exhibit  her  friend's  excellences  than  her  own.  But 
I  must  requesl;^  of  the  reader  to  suppose,  that  his  kind  and  dis- 
interested purpose  was  concealed  by  the  most  cautious  delicacy, 
studiously  shunning  the  most  distant  approach  to  affectation. 
So  that  it  was  as  unlike  the  usual  exhibition  of  one  pretty 
woman  affecting  to  proner  another,  as  the  friendship  of  David 
and  Jonathan  might  be  to  the  intimacy  of  two  Bond  Street 
loungers.  The  fa<^<t  is,  that,  though  the  effect  was  felt,  the 
cause  could  hardly  be  observed.  Each  of  the  ladies,  like  two 
excellent  actresses,  *.'ere  perfect  in  their  parts,  and  perfonned 
them  to  the  delight  ^f  the  audience  ;  and  such  being  the  case, 
it  was  almost  impo^«iible  to  discover  that  the  elder  constantly 
ceded  to  her  frienc^  *hat  which  was  most  suitable  to  her  talents. 

But  to  Waverlf^v  Rose  Bradwardine  possessed  an  attraction 
which  few  men  c*r  -resist,  from  the  marked  interest  which  she 


IV A  VERLEY. 


3<^7 


took  in  everything  that  affected  him.  She  was  too  young  and 
too  inexperienced  to  estimate  tlie  full  force  of  the  constant 
attention  wliich  she  paid  to  him.  Her  father  was  too  abstract- 
edly immersed  in  learned  and  military  discussions  to  observe 
her  partiality,  and  Flora  Mac-Ivor  did  not  alarm  her  by  re- 
monstrance, because  she  saw  in  this  line  of  conduct  the  most 
probable  chance  of  her  friend  securing  at  length  a  return  of 
affection. 

The  truth  is,  that,  in  her  first  conversation  after  their  meet- 
ing, Rose  ha  1  discovered  the  state  of  her  mind  to  that  acute 
and  intelligent  friend,  although  she  was  not  herself  aware  of  it. 
From  that  time,  Flora  was  not  only  determined  upon  the  final 
rejection  of  Waverley's  addresses,  but  became  anxious  that  they 
should,  if  possible,  be  transferred  to  her  friend.  Nor  was  she 
less  interested  in  this  plan,  though  her  brother  had  from  time  to 
time  talked,  as  between  jest  and  earnest,  of  paying  his  suit  to 
Kiss  Bradwardine.  She  knew  that  Fergus  had  the  true  con- 
finental  latitude  of  opinion  respecting  the  institution  of  mar- 
riage, and  would  not  have  given  his  hand  to  an  angel,  unless 
for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  his  alliances,  and  increasing 
his  influence  and  wealth.  The  Baron's  whim,  of  transferring 
his  estate  to  the  distant  heir-male  instead  of  his  own  daughter, 
was  therefore  likely  to  be  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  his 
entertaining  any  serious  thoughts  of  Rose  Bradwardine.  In- 
deed, Fergus's  brain  was  a  perpetual  workshop  of  scheme  and 
intrigue  of  every  possible  kind  and  description  ;  while,  like 
many  a  mechanic  of  more  ingenuity  than  steadiness,  he  would 
often  unexpectedly,  and  without  any  apparent  motive,  abandon 
one  plan,  and  go  earnestly  to  work  upon  another,  which  was 
either  fresh  from  the  forge  of  his  imagination,  or  had  at  some 
former  period  been  flung  aside  half  finished.  It  was  therefore 
often  difficult  to  guess  what  line  of  conduct  he  might  finally 
adopt  upon  any  given  occasion. 

Although  Flora  was  sincerely  attached  to  her  brother, 
whose  high  energies  might  indeed  have  commanded  her  admi^ 
ration  even  without  the  ties  which  bound  them  together,  she 
was  by  no  means  blind  to  his  faults,  which  she  considered  as 
dangerous  to  the  hopes  of  any  woman  who  should  found  her 
ideas  of  a  happy  marriage  in  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  domestic 
society,  and  the  exchange  of  mutual  and  engrossing  affection. 
The  real  disposition  of  Waverley,  on  the  other  hartd,  notwith- 
standing his  dreams  of  tented  fields  and  military  htinor,  seemed 
exclusively  domestic.  He  asked  and  received  no  share  in  the 
busy  scenes  which  were  constantly  going  on  around  him,  and 


2o8  WAVERLEY. 

was  rather  annoyed  than  interested  by  the  discussion  of  con- 
tending claims,  rights,  and  Interests,  which  often  passed  in  hi3 
presence.  All  this  pointed  him  out  as  the  person  formed  to 
make  happy  a  spirit  like  that  of  Rose,  which  corresponded  with 
his  own. 

She  remarked  this  point  in  Waverley's  character  one  day 
while  she  sat  with  Miss  Bradwardine.  "  His  genius  and  ele-- 
gant  taste,"  answered  Rose,  "  cannot  be  interested  in  such 
trifling  discussions.  What  is  it  to  him,  for  example,  whether 
the  Chief  of  the  Macindallaghers,  who  has  brought  out  only 
fifty  men,  should  be  a  colonel  or  a  captain  ?  and  how  could  Mr. 
Waverley  be  supposed  to  interest  himself  in  the  violent  alter- 
cation between  your  brother  and  young  Corrinaschian,  whether 
the  post  of  honor  is  due  to  the  eldest  cadet  of  a  clan  or  the 
youngest  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Rose,  if  he  were  the  hero  you  suppose  him,  he 
would  interest  himself  in  these  matters,  not  indeed  as  impor- 
tant in  themselves,  but  for  the  purpose  of  mediating  between 
the  ardent  spirits  who  actually  dr.  make  them  the  subject  of 
discord.  You  saw  when  Corrinasci,.ian  raised  his  voice  in  great 
passion,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  Waverley  lifted  his 
head  as  if  he  had  just  awaked  from  a  dream,  and  asked,  with 
great  composure,  what  the  matter  was." 

"  Well,  and  did  not  the  laughter  tliey  fell  into  at  his  absence 
of  mind,  serve  better  to  break  off  the  'dispute  than  anything  he 
could  have  said  to  them  ?  " 

"  True,  my  dear,"  answered  Flora  ;  "  but  not  quite  so  credit- 
ably for  Waverley  as  if  he  had  brought  them  to  their  senses  by 
force  of  reason." 

"Would  you  have  him  peace-maker  general  between  all  the 
gunpowder  Highlanders  in  the  army  ?  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Flora — your  brother,  you  know,  is  out  of  the  question  ;  he  has 
more  sense  then  half  of  them.  But  can  you  think  the  fierce, 
hot,  furious  spirits,  of  whose  brawls  we  see  much,  and  hear 
more,  and  who  terrify  me  out  of  my  life  every  day  in  the  world, 
are  at  all  to  be  compared  to  Waverley  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  compare  him  with  those  uneducated  men,  m.y  dear 
Rose.  I  only  lament,  that,  with  his  talents  aod  genius,  he  does 
not  assume  that  place  in  society  for  which  they  eminently  fit 
him,  and  that  he  does  not  lend  their  full  impulse  to  the  noble 
cause  in  which  he  has  enlisted.  Are  there  not  Lochiel,  and 
P ,  and  M ,  and  G ,  all  men  of  the  highest  educa- 
tion, as  well  as  the  first  talents  ? — why  will  he  not  stoop  like 
them  to  be  alive  and  useful  ? — I  often  believe  his  zeal  is  frozea 


WAVER  LEY. 


309 


fey  that  proud  cold-blooded  Englishman,  whom  he  now  lives 
with  so  much." 

"  Colonel  Talbot  ? — he  is  a  very  disagreeable  person,  to  be 
sure.  He  looks  as  if  he  thought  no  Scottish  woman  worth  the 
trouble  of  handing  her  a  cup  of  tea.  But  Waverley  is  so  gentle, 
so  well  informed " 

"  Yes,"  said  Flora,  smiling  ;  "  he  can  admire  the  moon,  and 
quote  a  stanza  from  Tasso." 

"  Besides,  you  know  how  he  fought,"  added  Miss  Bradwar- 
dine. 

"  For  mere  fighting,"  answered  Flora,  "  I  believe  all  men 
(that  is,  who  deserve  the  name)  are  pretty  much  alike ;  there 
is  generally  more  courage  required  to  run  away.  They  have, 
besides,  when  confronted  with  each  other,  a  certain  instinct  fol 
strife,  as  we  see  in  other  male  animals,  such  as  dogs,  bulls,  and 
so  forth.  But  high  and  perilous  enterprise  is  not  Waverley's 
forte.  He  would  never  have  been  his  celebrated  ancestor  Sir 
Nigel,  but  only  Sir  Nigel's  eulogist  and  poet.  I  will  tell  you 
where  he  will  be  at  home,  my  dear,  and  in  his  place, — in  the 
quiet  circle  of  domestic  happiness,  lettered  indolence,  and 
elegant  enjoyments,  of  Waverley-Honour.  And  he  will  refit 
the  old  library  in  the  most  exquisite  Gothic  taste,  and  garnish 
its  shelves  with  the  rarest  and  most  valuable  volumes  ;  and  he 
will  draw  plans  and  landscapes,  and  write  verses,  and  rear 
temples,  and  dig  grottoes  ; — and  he  will  stand  in  a  clear  summer 
night  in  the  colonnade  before  the  hall,  and  gaze  on  the  deer  as 
they  stray  in  the  moonlight,  or  lie  shadowed  by  the  boughs  of 
the  huge  old  fantastic  oaks  ; — and  he  will  repeat  verses  to  his 
beautiful  wife,  who  will  hang  upon  his  arm  ; — and  he  will  be  a 
happy  man." 

"  And  she  will  be  a  happy  woman,"  thought  poor  Rose, 
But  she  only  sighed,  and  dropped  the  conversation. 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-THIRD. 

FERGUS   A  SUITOR. 


Waverley  had,  indeed,  as  he  looked  closer  into  the  state 
of  the  Chevalier's  Court,  less  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  it.  It 
contained,  as  they  say  an  acorn  includes  all  the  ramificationi 


310 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


of  the  future  oak,  as  many  seeds  of  tracasserie  and  intrigue  ai 
might  have  done  honor  to  the  Court  of  a  large  empire.  Every 
person  of  consequence  had  some  separate  object,  which  he  pur 
sued  with  a  fury  that  Waverley  considered  as  altogether  dispro 
portioned  to  its  importance.  Almost  all  had  their  reasons  for 
disconte  jt,  although  the  most  legitimate  was  that  of  the  worthy 
old  Baron,  who  was  only  distressed  on  account  of  the  common 
cause. 

*'  We  shall  hardly,"  said  he  one  morning  to  Waverley,  when 
they  had  been  viewing  the  Castle, — "  we  shall  hardly  gain  the 
obsidional  crown,  which  you  wot  well  was  made  of  the  roots  or 
grain  which  takes  root  within  the  place  besieged,  or  it  may  be 
of  the  herb  ^^ oo^\w^,  paretaria,  or  pellitory ;  we  shall  not,  I 
say,  gain  it  by  this  same  blockade  or  leaguer  of  Edinburgh 
Castle."  For  this  opinion  he  gave  most  learned  and  satisfac- 
tory reasons,  that  the  reader  may  not  care  to  hear  repeated. 

Having  escaped  from  the  old  gentleman,  Waverley  went 
to  Fergus's  lodgings  by  appointment,  to  await  his  return  from 
Holyrood  House.  "  I  am  to  have  a  particular  audience  to- 
morrow," said  Fergus  to  Waverley,  overnight,  "  and  you  must 
meet  me  to  wish  me  joy  of  the  success  which  I  securely  antici' 
pate." 

The  morrow  came,  and  in  the  Chief's  apartment  he  found 
Ensign  Maccombich  waiting  to  make  report  of  his  turn  of  duty 
in  a  sort  of  ditch  which  they  had  dug  across  the  Castle  hill,  and 
called  a  trench.  In  a  short  time  the  Chief's  voice  was  heard 
on  the  stair  in  a  tone  of  impatient  fury  : — "  Callum, — why, 
Callum  Beg, — Diaoul !  "  He  entered  the  room  with  all  the 
marks  of  a  man  agitated  by  a  towering  passion  ;  and  there  were 
few  upon  whose  features  rage  produced  a  more  violent  effect. 
The  veins  of  his  forehead  swelled  when  he  was  in  such  agita- 
tion :  his  nostril  became  dilated  ;  his  cheek  and  eye  inflamed; 
and  his  look  that  of  a  demoniac.  These  appearances  of  half-sup- 
pressed rage  were  the  more  frightful,  because  they  were  obvi- 
ously caused  by  a  strong  effort  to  temper  with  discretion  an 
almost  ungovernable  paroxysm  of  passion,  and  resulted  from  an 
internal  conflict  of  the  most  dreadful  kind,  which  agitated  his 
whole  frame  of  mortality. 

As  he  entered  the  apartment,  he  unbuckled  his  broadsword, 
and  throwing  it  down  with  such  violence  that  the  weapon  rolled 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  "  I  know  not  what,"  he  exclaimed, 
"withholds  me  from  taking  a  solemn  oath  that  I  will  never 
more  draw  it  in  his  cause.  Load  my  pistols,  Callum,  and  bring 
them   hither  instantly; — instantly."      Galium,  whom  nothing 


WAVER  LEY. 


3" 


ever  startled,  dismayed  or  disconcerted,  obeyed  very  coolly. 
Evan  Dhu,  upon  whose  brow  the  suspicion  that  his  Chief  had 
been  insulted,  called  up  a  corresponding  storm,  swelled  in  sullen 
silence,  awaiting  to  learn  where  or  upon  whom  vengeance  was 
to  descend. 

"  So,  Waverley,  you  are  there,"  said  the  Chief,  after  a 
moment's  recollection  ; — "  Yes,  I  remember  I  asked  you  to 
share  my  triumph,  and  you  have  come  to  witness  my — disap- 
pointment we  shall  call  it."  Evan  now  presented  the  written 
report  he  had  in  his  hand,  which  Fergus  threw  from  him  with 
great  passion.  "  I  wish  to  God,"  he  said,  "  the  old  den  would 
tumble  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  fools  who  attack,  and  the 
knaves  who  defend  it  !  I  see,  Waverley,  you  thitik  I  am  mad 
— leave  us,  Evan,  but  be  within  call." 

"  The  Colonel's  in  an  unco  kippage,"  said  Mrs.  Flockhart 
to  Evan,  as  he  descended  ;  "  I  wish  he  may  be  weel, — the  very 
veins  on  his  brent  brow  are  swelled  like  whip-cord  ;  wad  he  no 
tak  something  ?  " 

"  He  usually  lets  blood  for  these  fits,"  answered  the  High- 
land ancient  with  great  composure. 

When  this  officer  left  the  room,  the  Chieftain  gradually 
reassumed  some  degree  of  composure. — "  I  know,  Waverley," 
he  said,  "  that  Colonel  Talbot  has  persuaded  you  to  curse  ten 
times  a-day  your  engagement  with  us  ; — nay,  never  deny  it,  for 
I  am  at  this  moment  tempted  to  curse  my  own.  Would  you 
believe  it,  I  made  this  very  morning  two  suits  to  the  Prince, 
and  he  has  rejected  them  both :  what  do  you  think  of  it .''  " 

"  What  can  I  think,"  answered  Waverley,  "  till  I  know  what 
your  requests  were  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  signifies  what  they  were,  man  ?  I  tell  you  it 
was  I  that  made  them, — I,  to  whom  he  owes  more  than  to  any 
three  who  have  joined  the  standard  ;  for  I  negotiated  the  whole 
business,  and  brought  in  all  the  Perthshire  men  when  not  one 
would  have  stirred.  I  am  not  likely,  I  think,  to  ask  anything 
very  unreasonable,  and  if  I  did  they  might  have  stretched  a 
point. — Well,  but  you  shall  know  all,  now  that  I  can  draw  my 
breath  again  with  some  freedom. — You  remember  my  earl's 
patent ;  it  is  dated  some  years  back,  for  services  then  rendered  ■, 
and  certainly  my  merit  has  not  been  diminished,  to  say  the 
least,  by  my  subsequent  behavior.  Now,  sir,  I  value  this  bauble 
of  a  coronet  as  little  as  you  can,  or  any  philosopher  on  earth ; 
for  I  hold  that  the  chief  of  such  a  clan  as  the  Sliochd  nan  Ivor 
is  superior  in  rank  to  any  earl  in  Scotland.  But  I  had  a  par- 
ticular reason  for  assuming  this  cursed  title  at  this  time.     You 


S" 


IVAVERLRY. 


must  know,  that  I  learned  accidentally  tfiat  the  Prince  has  beet 
pressing  that  old  foolish  Baron  of  Bradwardine  to  disinherit  hia 
male  heir,  or  nineteenth  or  twentieth  cousin,  who  has  taken  a 
command  in  the  Elector  of  Hanover's  militia,  and  to  settle  his 
estate  upon  your  pretty  little  friend  Rose ;  and  thi3,  as  being 
the  command  of  his  king  and  overlord,  who  may  alter  the  desti- 
nation  of  a  fief  at  pleasure,  the  old  gentleman  seems  well  rec 
onciled  to." 

"  And  what  becomes  of  the  homage  ?  " 

"  Curse  the  homage  ! — I  believe  Rose  is  to  pull  oflf  the 
queen's  slipper  on  her  coronation-day,  or  some  such  trash. 
Well,  sir,  as  Rose  Bradwardine  would  always  have  made  a 
suitable  match  for  me,  but  for  this  idiotical  predilection  of  her 
father  for  the  heir-male,  it  occurred  to  me  there  now  remained 
no  obstacle,  unless  that  the  Baron  might  except  his  daughter's 
husband  to  take  the  name  of  Bradwardine  (which  you  know 
would  be  impossible  in  my  case),  and  that  this  might  be  evaded 
by  my  assuming  the  title  to  which  I  had  so  good  a  right,  ana 
which,  of  course,  would  supersede  that  difficulty.  If  she  was 
to  be  also  Viscountess  Bradwardine  in  her  own  right,  after  her 
father's  demise,  so  much  the  better ;  I  could  have  no  ob- 
jection." 

"  But,  Fergus,"  said  Waverley,  "  I  had  no  idea  that  you 
had  any  affection  for  Miss  Bradwardine,  and  you  are  always 
sneering  at  her  father." 

"  I  have  as  much  affection  for  Miss  Bradwardine,  my  good 
friend,  as  I  think  it  necessar)-  to  have  for  the  future  mistress  of 
my  family,  and  the  mother  of  my  children.  She  is  a  very 
pretty,  intelligent  girl,  and  is  certainly  of  one  of  the  very  first 
Lowland  families  ;  and,  with  a  little  of  Flora's  instructions  and 
forming,  will  make  a  very  good  figure.  As  to  her  father,  he  is 
an  original,  it  is  true,  and  an  absurd  one  enough ;  but  he  has 
given  such  severe  lessons  to  Sir  Hew  Halbert,  that  dear  de- 
funct the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple,  and  others,  that  nobody  dare 
laugh  at  him,  so  his  absurdity  goes  for  nothing.  I  tell  you 
there  could  have  been  no  earthly  objection — none.  I  had 
settled  the  thing  entirely  in  my  own  mind." 

"  But  had  you  asked  the  Baron's  consent,"  said  Waverley, 
•'  or  Rose's  ? " 

"  To  what  purpose  ?  To  have  spoke  to  the  Baron  before  I 
had  assumed  my  title  would  have  only  provoked  a  premature 
and  irritating  discussion  on  the  subject  of  the  change  of  name, 
when,  as  Earl  of  Glennaquoich,  I  liad  only  to  propose  to  him 
to  carry  his  d — d  bear  and  boot-jack  party  ^er^^alCf  or  ia  4 


IVAVERLEY. 


zn 


scutcheon  of  pretence,  or  in  a  separate  shield  perhaps — anj" 
way  that  would  not  blemish  my  own  coat-of-arms.  And  as  to 
Rose,  I  don't  see  what  objection  she  could  have  made,  if  hef 
father  was  satisfied." 

"  Perhaps  the  same  that  your  sister  makes  to  me,  you  being 
satisfied." 

Fergus  gave  a  broad  stare  at  the  comparison  which  this 
supposition  implied,  but  cautiously  suppressed  the  answer  which 
rose  to  his  tongue.  "  O,  we  should  easily  have  arranged  all 
that. — So,  sir,  I  craved  a  private  interview,  and  this  morning 
was  assigned  ;  and  I  asked  you  to  meet  me  here,  thinking,  like 
a  fool,  that  I  should  want  your  countenance  as  bride's-man. 
Well — I  state  my  pretensions — they  are  not  denied  ;  the  prom- 
ises so  repeatedly  made,  and  the  patent  granted — they  are 
acknowledged.  But  I  propose,  as  a  natural  consequence,  to 
assume  the  rank  which  the  patent  bestowed — I  have  the  old 

story  of  the  jealousy  of  C and  M trumped  up  against 

me — I  resist  this  pretext,  and  offer  to  procure  their  written 
acquiescence,  in  virtue  of  the  date  of  my  patent  as  prior  to  their 
silly  claims — I  assure  you  I  would  have  had  such  a  consent 
from  them,  if  it  had  been  at  the  point  of  the  sword.  And  then, 
out  comes  the  real  truth  ;  and  he  dares  to  tell  me,  to  my  face, 
that  my  patent  must  be  suppressed  for  the  present  for  fear  of 
disgusting  that  rascally  coward  and  fameant — (naming  the 
rival  chief  of  his  own  clan) — who  has  no  better  title  to  be  a 
chieftain  than  I  to  be  Emperor  of  China  ;  and  who  is  pleased 
to  shelter  his  dastardly  reluctance  to  come  out,  agreeable  to 
his  promise  twenty  times  pledged,  under  a  pretended  jealousy 
of  the  Prince's  partiality  to  me.  And,  to  leave  this  miserable 
driveller  without  a  pretence  for  his  cowardice,  the  Prince  asks 
it  as  a  personal  favor  of  me,  forsooth,  not  to  press  my  just  and 
reasonable  request  at  this  moment.  After  this,  put  your  faith 
f.n  princes  !  " 

"  And  did  your  audience  end  here  ?  " 

"  End  ?  O  no  !  I  was  determined  to  leave  him  no  pretence 
for  his  ingratitude,  and  I  therefore  stated,  with  all  the  compo- 
sure I  could  muster, — for  I  promise  you  I  trembled  with  pas- 
sion,— the  particular  reasons  I  had  for  wishing  that  his 
Royal  Highness  would  impose  upon  me  any  other  mode  of  ex- 
hibiting my  duty  and  devotion,  as  my  views  in  life  made,  what 
at  any  other  time  would  have  been  a  mere  trifle,  at  this  crisis  a 
severe  sacrifice  ;  and  then  I  explained  to  him  my  full  plan." 

"And  what  did  the  Prince  answer?  " 

"Answer  ?  why — it  is  well  it  is  written,  Curse  not  the  king; 


3t4 


WAVER  LEY. 


no.  not  in  thy  thought ! — why,  he  answered,  that  truly  he  was 
glad  I  had  made  him  my  confidant,  to  prevent  more  grievous 
disappointment,  for  he  could  assure  me,  upon  the  word  of  a 
prince,  that  Miss  Bradwardine's  affections  were  engaged,  and 
he  was  under  a  particular  promise  to  favor  them.  *  So,  my 
dear  Fergus,'  said  he,  with  his  most  gracious  cast  of  smile,  '  as 
the  marriage  is  utterly  out  of  question,  there  need  be  no  hurry, 
you  know,  about  the  earldom.'  And  so  he  glided  off,  and  left 
me//a;////«." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  cou/dhzve  done  at  that  moment — sold 
myself  to  the  devil  or  the  Elector, which e\er offered  the  dearest 
revenge.  However,  I  am  now  cool.  I  know  he  intends  tq 
marry  her  to  some  of  his  rascally  Frenchmen,  or  his  IrisH 
officers :  but  I  will  watch  them  close ;  and  let  the  man  that 
would  supplant  me  look  well  to  himself  —  Bisogna  copri?-si^ 
Signor" 

After  some  further  conversation,  unnecessary  to  be  detailed, 
Waverley  took  leave  of  the  Chieftain,  whose  fury  had  now  sub- 
sided into  a  deep  and  strong  desire  of  vengeance,  and  returned 
home,  scarce  able  to  analyze  the  mixture  of  feelings  which  the 
narrative  had  awakened  in  his  own  bosom. 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-FOURTH. 

**T0   ONE  THING   CONSTANT  NEVER.** 

"  I  AM  the  very  child  of  caprice,"  said  Waverley  to  himself, 
as  he  bolted  the  door  of  his  apartment,  and  paced  it  with  hasty 
steps. — "  What  is  it  to  me  that  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  should  wish 
to  marry  Rose  Bradwardine  ? — I  love  her  not. — I  might  have 
been  loved  by  her  perhaps  ;  but  I  rejected  her  simple,  natural, 
and  affecting  attachment,  instead  of  cherishing  it  into  tender- 
ness, and  dedicated  myself  to  one  who  will  never  love  mortal 
man,  unless  old  Warwick,  the  King-maker,  should  arise  from 
the  dead.  The  Baron,  too — I  would  not  have  cared  about  his 
estate,  and  so  the  name  would  have  been  no  stumbling-block. 
The  devil  might  have  taken  the  barren  moors,  and  drawn  off  the 
royal  caligcs  for  anything  I  would  have  minded.  But  framed  as 
she  is  for  domestic  affection  and  tenderness,  for  giving  and 
»^ceiving  all  those  kind  and  quiet   attentions  whiah  sweeten 


WAVERLEY. 


315 


life  to  those  who  pass  it  together,  she  is  sought  by  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor.  He  will  not  use  her  ill,  to  be  sure — of  that  he  is  in* 
capable — but  he  will  neglect  her  after  the  first  month  ;  he  will  be 
too  intent  on  subduing  some  rival  chieftain,  or  circumventing 
some  favorite  at  court,  on  gaining  some  heathy  hill  and  lake, 
or  adding  to  his  bands  some  new  troop  of  caterans,  to  inquire 
what  she  does,  or  how  she  amuses  herself. 

And  then  will  canker  sorrow  eat  her  bud, 
And  chase  the  native  beauty  from  her  cheek  } 
And  she  will  look  as  hollow  as  a  ghost, 
And  dim  and  meagre  as  an  ague  fit, 
And  so  she'll  die. 

And  such  a  catastrophe  of  the  most  gentle  creature  on  earth 
might  have  been  prevented,  if  Mr.  Edward  Waverley  had  had 
his  eyes  1  Upon  my  word,  I  cannot  understand  how  I  thought 
Flora  so  much — that  is,  so  very  much — handsomer  than  Rose. 
She  is  taller,  indeed,  and  her  manner  more  formed ;  but  many 
people  think  Miss  Bradwardine's  more  natural ;  and  she  is  cer- 
tainly much  younger.  I  should  think  Flora  is  two  years  older 
than  I  am — I  will  look  at  them  particularly  this  evening." 

And  wi'th  this  resolution,  Waverley  went  to  drink  tea  (as 
the  fashion  was  sixty  years  since)  at  the  house  of  a  lady  of 
quality  attached  to  the  cause  of  the  Chevalier,  where  he  found, 
as  he  expected,  both  the  ladies.  All  rose  as  he  entered,  but 
Flora  immediately  resumed  her  place,  and  the  conversation  in 
which  she  was  engaged.  Rose,  on  the  contrary,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, made  a  little  way  in  the  crowded  circle  for  his  advan- 
cing the  corner  of  a  chair.  "  Her  manner,  upon  the  whole,  is 
most  engaging,"  said  Waverley  to  himself. 

A  dispute  occurred  whether  the  Gaelic  or  Italian  language 
was  most  liquid,  and  best  adapted  for  poetry ;  the  opinion  for 
the  Gaelic,  which  probably  might  not  have  found  supporters 
elsewhere,  was  here  fiercely  defended  by  seven  Highland  ladies, 
who  talked  at  the  top  of  their  lungs,  and  screamed  the  company 
deaf,  with  examples  of  Celtic  euphonia.  Flora  observing  the 
Lowland  ladies  sneer  at  the  comparison,  produced  some  reasons 
to  show  that  it  was  not  altogether  so  absurd  ;  but  Rose,  when 
asked  for  her  opinion,  gave  it  with  animation,  in  praise  of 
Italian,  which  she  had  studied  with  Waverley's  assistance. 
"  She  has  a  more  correct  ear  than  Flora,  though  a  less  accom- 
plished musician,"  said  Waverley  to  himself.  "  I  suppose  Mis« 
Mac-Ivor  will  next  compare  Mac-Murrough  nan  Fonn  ta 
Ariosto  !  " 

Lastly,  it  so  befell  that  the  company  differed  whether  Fcr 


j.-C  WAVEIiLEY. 

gus  should  be  asked  to  perform  on  the  flute,  at  whic'n  he  wat 
an  adept,  or  Waverley  invited  to  read  a  play  of  Shakespeare  ; 
and  the  lady  of  the  house  good-humoredly  undertook  to  collect 
the  votes  of  the  company  for  poetry  or  music,  under  the  con- 
dition, that  the  gentleman  whose  talents  were  not  laid  under 
contribution  that  evening,  should  contribute  them  to  enliven 
the  next.  It  chanced  that  Rose  had  the  casting  vote.  Now 
Flora,  who  seemed  to  impose  it  as  a  rule  upon  herself  never 
to  countenance  any  proposal  which  might  seem  to  encourage 
Waverley,  had  voted  for  music,  providing  the  Baron  would  take 
his  violin  to  accompany  Fergus.  "  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  taste, 
Miss  Mac-Ivor,"  thought  Edward,  as  they  sought  for  his  book. 
*'  I  thought  it  better  when  we  were  at  Glennaquoich  ;  but  cer- 
tainly the  Baron  is  no  great  performer,  and  Shakespeare  is  worth 
listening  to." 

Romeo  and  Juliet  was  selected,  and  Edward  read  with  taste, 
feeling,  and  spirit,  several  scenes  from  that  play.  All  the  com- 
pany applauded  with  their  hands,  and  many  with  their  tears. 
Flora,  to  whom  the  drama  was  well  known,  was  among  the 
former  ;  Rose,  to  whom  it  was  altogether  new,  belonged  to  the 
latter  class  of  admirers,  *'  She  has  more  feeling,  too,"  said 
Waverley,  internally. 

The  conversation  turning  upon  the  incidents  of  the  play. 
and  upon  the  characters,  Fergus  declared  that  the  only  one 
worth  naming,  as  a  man  of  fashion  and  spirit,  was  Mercutio. 
*'  I  could  not,"  he  said,  "  quite  follow  all  his  old-fashioned  wit, 
but  he  must  have  been  a  very  pretty  fellow,  according  to  the 
ideas  of  his  time." 

"  And  it  was  a  shame,"  said  Ensign  Maccombich,  who  usu- 
ally followed  his  Colonel  everywhere,  "  for  that  Tibbert,  or 
Taggart,  or  whatever  was  his  name,  to  stick  him  under  the  other 
gentleman's  arm,  while  he  was  redding  the  fray." 

The  ladies,  of  course,  declared  loudly  in  favor  of  Romeo  } 
but  this  opinion  did  not  go  undisputed.  The  mistress  of  the 
house,  and  several  other  ladies,  severely  reprobated  the  levity 
with  which  the  hero  transfers  his  affections  from  Rosalind  to 
Juliet.  Flora  remained  silent  until  her  opinion  was  repeatedly 
requested,  and  then  answered,  she  thought  the  circumstance 
objected  to  not  only  reconcilable  to  nature,  but  such  as  in  the 
highest  degree  evinced  the  art  of  the  poet.  "  Romeo  is  de- 
scribed," said  she,  "  as  a  young  man,  peculiarly  susceptible  of 
the  softer  passions  ;  his  love  is  at  first  fixed  upon  a  woman  who 
could  afford  it  no  return  ;  this  he  repeatedly  tells  you,-— 

From  love's  weak  childish  bow  she  lives  unharmed  { 


WAVERLEY,  3i| 

and  again, — 

She  hath  forsworn  to  love. 

Now,  as  it  was  impossible  that  Romeo's  love,  supposing  him  3 
reasonable  being,  could  continue  to  subsist  without  hope,  the 
poet  has,  with  great  art,  seized  the  moment  when  he  was  re- 
duced actually  to  despair,  to  throw  in  his  way  an  object  more 
accomplished  than  her  by  whom  he  had  been  rejected,  and  who 
is  disposed  to  repay  his  attachment.  I  can  scarce  conceive  a 
situation  more  calculated  to  enhance  the  ardor  of  Romeo's 
affection  for  Juliet,  than  his  being  at  once  raised  by  her  from 
the  state  of  drooping  melancholy  in  which  he  appears  first  upon 
the  scene,  to  the  ecstatic  state  in  which  he  exclaims — 


come  what  sorrow  can, 


It  cannot  countervail  the  exchange  of  joy 
That  one  short  moment  gives  me  in  her  sight." 

"Good,  now.  Miss  Mac-Ivor,"  said  a  young  lady  of  quality, 
"do  you  mean  to  cheat  us  out  of  our  prerogative?  will  you 
persuade  us  love  cannot  subsist  without  hope,  or  that  the  lover 
must  become  fickle  if  the  lady  is  cruel  ?  O  fie  !  I  did  not  ex- 
pect such  an  unsentimental  conclusion." 

"  A  lover,  my  dear  Lady  Betty,"  said  Flora,  "  may,  I  conceive, 
persevere  in  his  suit,  under  very  discouraging  circumstances. 
Affection  can  (now  and  then)  withstand  very  severe  storms  of 
rigor,  but  not  a  long  polar  frost  of  downright  indifference. 
Don't,  even  with  your  attractions,  try  the  experiment  upon  any 
lover  whose  faith  you  valine.  Love  will  subsist  on  wonderfully 
little  hope,  but  not  altogether  without  it." 

"  It  will  be  just  like  Duncan  Mac-Girdie's  mare,"  said  Evan, 
"  if  your  ladyships  please  ;  he  wanted  to  use  her  by  degrees  to 
live  without  meat,  and  just  as  he  had  put  her  on  a  straw  a-day, 
the  poor  thing  died  !  " 

Evan's  illustration  set  the  company  a-laughing,  and  the  dis- 
course took  a  different  turn.  Shortly  afterwards  the  party 
broke  up,  and  Edward  returned  home,  musing  on  what  Fl  ora 
had  said.  "  I  will  love  my  Rosalind  no  more,"  said  he  ;  "  she 
has  given  me  a  broad  enough  hint  for  that ;  and  I  will  speak 
to  her  brotlier,  and  resign  my  suit.  But  for  Juliet — would  it 
be  handsome  to  interfere  with  Fergus's  pretensions  ? — though 
it  is  impossible  they  can  ever  succeed  :  and  should  they  mis- 
carry, what  then  ? — why  then  alors  comme  alors.^  And  with 
this  resolution,  of  being  guided  by  circumstances,  did  our  herd 
commit  himself  to  repose. 


^1%  WAVER  LEV. 

CHAPTER  FIFTY-FIFTH. 

A   BRAVE  MAN    IN   SORROW. 

If  my  fair  readers  should  be  of  opinion  that  my  hero's 
ievity  in  love  is  altogether  unpardonable,  I  must  remind  them 
that  all  his  griefs  and  difficulties  did  not  arise  from  that  senti- 
mental source.  Even  the  lyric  poet,  who  complains  so  feelingly 
of  the  pains  of  love,  could  not  forget,  that,  at  the  same  time, 
he  was  "in  debt  and  in  drink,"  which,  doubtless,  were  great 
aggravations  of  his  distress.  There  were  indeed  whole  days 
in  which  Waverley  thought  neither  of  Flora  nor  Rose  Brad- 
wardine,  but  which  were  spent  in  melancholy  conjectures  on 
the  probable  state  of  matters  at  Waverley-Honour,  and  the 
dubious  issue  of  the  civil  contest  in  which  he  was  pledged. 
Colonel  Talbot  often  engaged  him  in  discussions  upon  the  jus- 
tice of  the  cause  he  had  espoused.  "  Not,"  he  said,  "  that  it 
is  possible  for  you  to  quit  it  at  this  present  moment,  for,  come 
what  will,  you  must  stand  by  your  rash  engagement.  But  I 
wish  you  to  be  aware  that  the  right  is  not  with  you ;  that  you 
are  fighting  against  the  real  interests  of  your  country  ;  and  that 
you  ought,  as  an  Englishman  and  a  patriot,  to  take  the  first  op- 
portunity to  leave  this  unhappy  expedition  before  the  .^  n  Dw-ball 
melts." 

In  such  political  disputes,  Waverley  usually  opposed  the 
common  arguments  of  his  party,  with  which  it  is  unnecessary 
to  trouble  the  reader.  But  he  had  little  to  say  when  the 
Colonel  urged  him  to  compare  the  strength  by  which  they  had 
undertaken  to  overthrow  the  Government  with  that  which  was 
now  assembling  very  rapidly  for  its  support.  To  this  statement 
Waverley  had  but  one  answer  :  "  If  the  cause  I  have  under 
taken  be  perilous,  there  would  be  the  greater  disgrace  in  aban- 
doning it."  And  in  his  turn  he  generally  silenced  Colonel  Tal- 
bot, and  succeeded  in  changing  the  subject. 

One  night,  when,  after  a  long  dispute  of  this  nature,  the 
friends  had  separated,  and  our  hero  had  retired  to  bed,  he  was 
awakened  about  midnight  by  a  suppressed  groan.  He  started 
up  and  listened ;  it  came  from  the  apartment  of  Colonel  Tal- 
bot, which  was  divided  from  his  own  by  a  wainscoted  partition, 
with  a  door  of  communication.  Waverley  approached  this 
door,  and  distinctly  heard  one  or  two  deep  drawn  siffhs.     Whaf 


IVAVERLEY. 


Z^^ 


could  be  the  matter  ?  The  Colonel  had  parted  from  him,  ap* 
parently,  iu  his  usual  state  of  spirits.  He  must  have  been 
taken  suddenly  ill.  Under  this  impression,  he  opened  the  door 
of  communication  very  gently,  and  perceived  the  Colonel  in 
his  night-gown,  seated  by  a  table,  on  which  lay  a  letter  and  a 
picture.  He  raised  his  head  hastily,  as  Edward  stood  uncer- 
tain whether  to  advance  or  retire,  and  Waverley  perceived  that 
bis  cheeks  were  stained  with  tears. 

As  if  ashamed  at  being  found  giving  way  to  his  emotion, 
Colonel  Talbot  rose  with  apparent  displeasure,  and  said,  with 
some  sternness,  "  I  think,  Mr.  Waverley,  my  own  apartment, 
and  the  hour,  might  have  secured  even  a  prisoner  against " 

"  Do  not  say  inirunon.  Colonel  Talbot ;  I  heard  you  breathe 
hard,  and  feared  you  were  ill  3  that  alone  could  have  induced 
me  to  break  in  upon  you." 

"  I  am  well,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  perfectly  well." 

"  But  you  are  distressed,"  said  Edward  :  "  is  there  anything 
can  be  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Mr.  Waverley :  I  was  only  thinking  of  home, 
and  of  some  unpleasant  occurrences  there." 

"  Good  God,  my  uncle  !  "  exclaimed  Waverley. 

"  No, — it  is  a  grief  entirely  my  own.  I  am  ashamed  yoii 
should  have  see'i  it  disarm  me  so  much :  but  it  must  have  its 
course  at  times,  that  it  may  be  at  others  more  decently  sup- 
ported. I  would  have  kept  it  secret  from  you  ;  for  I  think  it 
will  grieve  you,  and  yet  you  can  administer  no  consolation. 
But  you  have  surprised  me — -I  see  you  are  surprised  yourself, — ■ 
and  I  hate  mystery.     Read  that  letter." 

The  letter  was  from  Colonel  Talbot's  sister,  and  in  these 
words : 

"  1  received  yours,  my  dearest  brother,  by  Hodges.  Sir  E 
W.  and  Mr.  R.  are  still  at  large,  but  are  not  permitted  to  leave 
London.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  give  you  as  good  an  ac- 
count of  matters  in  the  square.  But  the  news  of  the  unhappy 
affair  at  Preston  came  upon  us,  with  the  dreadful  addition  that 
you  were  among  the  fallen.  You  know  Lady  Emily's  state  of 
health,  when  your  friendship  for  Sir  E.  induced  you  to  leave 
her.  She  was  much  harassed  with  the  sad  accounts  from  Scot- 
land of  the  rebellion  having  broken  out ;  but  kept  up  her  spirits, 
as,  she  said,  it  became  your  wife,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  future 
heir,  so  long  hoped  for  in  vain.  Alas,  my  dear  brother,  these 
hopes  are  now  ended  !  Notwithstanding  all  my  watchful  care, 
this  unhappy  rumor  reached  her  without  preparation.     She  was 


320 


^WAVEKLEY. 


taken  ill  immediately ;  and  the  poor  infant  scarce  survived  its 
birth.  Would  to  God  this  were  all  1  But  although  the  contra- 
diction of  the  horrible  report  by  your  own  letter  has  greatly 

revived  her  spirits,  yet  Dr. apprehends,  1  grieve  to  say, 

serious,  and  even  dangerous,  consequences  to  her  health,  espe- 
cially from  the  uncertainty  in  which  she  must  necessarily  re- 
main for  some  time,  aggravated  by  the  ideas  she  has  formed 
of  the  ferocity  of  those  with  whom  you  are  a  prisoner. 

"  Do  therefore,  my  dear  brother,  as  soon  as  this  reaches 
you,  endeavor  to  gain  your  release,  by  parole,  by  ransom,  or 
any  way  that  is  practicable.  I  do  not  exaggerate  Lady  Emily's 
state  of  health  ;  but  I  must  not — dare  not — suppress  the  truth. 
—Ever,  my  dear  Philip     our  most  affectionate  sister, 

"Lucy  Talbot." 

Edward  stood  motionless  when  he  had  perused  this  letter; 
for  the  conclusion  was  inevitable,  that  by  the  Colonel's  journey 
in  quest  of  him,  he  had  incurred  this  heavy  calamity.  It  was 
severe  enough,  even  in  its  irremediable  part ;  for  Colonel 
Talbot  and  Lady  Emily,  long  without  a  family,  had  fondly 
exulted  in  the  hopes  which  were  now  blasted.  But  this  dis- 
appointment was  nothing  to  the  extent  of  the  threatened  evil ; 
and  Edward,  with  horror,  regarded  himself  as  the  original 
cause  of  both. 

Ere  he  could  collect  himself  sufficiently  to  speak.  Colonel 
Talbot  had  recovered  his  usual  composure  of  manner,  though 
his  troubled  eye  denoted  his  mental  agony. 

"  She  is  a  woman,  my  young  friend,  who  may  justify  even  a 
soldier's  tears."  He  reached  him  the  miniature,  exhibiting 
features  which  fully  justified  the  eulogium  ;  "  and  yet,  God 
knows,  what  you  see  of  her  there  is  the  least  of  the  charms  she 
possesses — possessed,  I  should  perhaps  say — but  God's  will 
be  done ! " 

"  You  must  fly — you  must  fly  instantly  to  her  relief.  It  is 
not — it  shall  not  be  too  late." 

"  Fly  ! — how  is  it  possible  ?     I  am  a  prisoner — upon  parole." 

"  I  am  your  keeper — I  restore  your  parole — I  am  to  answer 
for  you." 

"  You  cannot  do  so  consistently  with  your  duty  ;  nor  can  I 
accept  a  discharge  from  you  with  due  regard  to  my  own  honor 
— you  would  be  made  responsible." 

*'  I  will  answer  it  with  my  head,  if  necessary,"  said  Waver- 
ley,  impetuously.  "  I  have  been  the  unhappy  cause  of  the  loss 
of  your  child — make  me  not  the  murderer  of  your  wife." 


WAVERLEY,  2«t 

**  No,  my  dear  Edward,"  said  Talbot,  taking  him  kindly  by 
the  hand,  "  you  are  in  no  respect  to  blame  ;  and  if  I  concealed 
this  domestic  distress  for  two  days,  it  was  lest  your  sensibility 
should  view  it  in  that  light.  You  could  not  think  of  me,  hardly 
knew  of  my  existence,  when  I  left  England  in  quest  of  you.  It 
is  a  responsibility,  Heaven  knows,  sufficiently  heavy  for  mor- 
tality, that  we  must  answer  for  the  foreseen  and  direct  result  of 
our  actions, — for  their  indirect  and  consequential  operation, 
the  great  and  good  Being,  who  alone  can  foresee  the  depend- 
ence of  human  events  on  each  other,  hath  not  pronounced  his 
frail  creatures  liable." 

"But  that  you  should  have  left  Lady  K.nily,"  said  Waver* 
ley,  with  much  emotion,  "  in  the  situation  of  all  others  the 
most  interesting  to  a  husband,  to  seek  a " 

"  I  only  did  my  duty,"  answered  Colonel  Talbot,  calmly, 
"  and  I  do  not,  ought  not  to  regret  it.  If  the  path  of  gratitude 
and  honor  were  always  smooth  and  easy,  there  would  be  little 
merit  in  following  it ;  but  it  moves  often  in  contradiction  to 
our  interest  and  passions,  and  sometimes  to  our  better  affec- 
tions. These  are  the  trials  of  life,  and  this,  though  not  tha 
least  bitter  "  (the  tears  came  unbidden  to  his  eyes)  "  is  not  the 
first  which  it  has  been  my  fate  to  encounter. — But  we  will  talk 
of  this  to-morrow,"  he  said,  wringing  Waverley's  hands.  *'  Good- 
night ;  strive  to  forget  it  for  a  few  hours.  It  will  dawn,  I 
think,  by  six,  and  it  is  now  past  two.     Good-night." 

Edward  retired,  without  trusting  his  voice  with  a  reply. 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-SIXTH. 

EXERTION. 


When  Colonel  Talbot  entered  the  breakfast-parlor  next 
morning,  he  learned  from  Waverley's  servant  that  our  hero  had 
been  abroad  at  an  early  hour,  and  was  not  yet  returned.  The 
morning  was  well  advanced  before  he  again  appeared.  He 
arrived  out  of  breath,  but  with  an  air  of  joy  that  astonished 
Colonel  Talbot. 

"  There,"  said  he,  throwing  a  paper  on  the  table,  "  there  is 
my  morning's  work. — Alick,  pack  up  the  Colonel's  clothes, 
Make  haste,  make  haste." 

The  Colonel   examined  the  paper  with   astonishment*    II 


j9a  WAVER  LEY. 

was  a  pass  from  the  Chevalier  to  Colonel  Talbot,  to  repair  to 
Leith,  or  any  other  port  in  possession  of  his  Royal  Highness's 
troops,  and  there  to  embark  for  England  er  elsewhere,  at  his 
free  pleasure  ;  he  only  giving  his  parole  of  honor  not  to  beat 
arms  against  the  house  of  Stuart  for  the  space  of  a  twelve- 
month. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,"  said  the  Colonel,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  eagerness,  "  how  did  you  obtain  this  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  the  Chevalier's  levee  as  soon  as  he  usually  rises. 
He  was  gone  to  the  camp  at  Duddingston.  I  pursued  him 
thither  ;  asked  and  obtained  an  audience — but  I  will  tell  you 
not  a  word  more,  unless  I  see  you  begin  to  pack." 

"  Before  I  know  whether  I  can  avail  myself  of  this  passport, 
or  how  it  was  obtained  ?  " 

"  O,  you  can  take  out  the  things  again,  you  know. — Now,  \ 
see  you  busy,  I  will  go  on.  When  I  first  mentioned  your 
name,  his  eyes  sparkled  almost  as  bright  as  yours  did  two 
minutes  since.  *  Had  you,'  he  earnestly  asked,  *  shown  any 
sentiments  favorable  to  his  cause  ? '  '  Not  in  the  least,  nor 
was  there  any  hope  you  would  do  so.'  His  countenance  fell. 
I  requested  your  freedom.  *  Impossible,'  he  said  ; — '  your  im- 
portance, as  a  friend  and  confidant  of  such  and  such  person- 
ages, made  my  request  altogether  extravagant.'  I  told  him 
my  own  story  and  yours  ;  and  asked  him  to  judge  what  my 
feelings  must  be  by  his  own.  He  has  a  heart,  and  a  kind  one, 
Colonel  Talbot,  you  may  say  what  you  please.  He  took  a 
sheet  of  paper,  and  wrote  the  pass  with  his  own  hand.  *  I  will 
not  trust  myself  with  my  council,'  he  said  ;  '  they  will  argue  me 
out  of  what  is  right.  I  will  not  endure  that  a  friend,  valued  as 
I  value  you,  should  be  loaded  with  the  painful  reflections  which 
must  afBict  you  in  case  of  further  misfortune  in  Colonel  Talbot's 
family  ;  nor  will  I  keep  a  brave  enemy  a  prisoner  under  such 
circumstances.  Besides,'  said  he,  I  think  I  can  justify  myself 
to  my  prudent  advisers,  by  pleading  the  good  effect  such  lenity 
will  produce  on  the  minds  of  the  great  English  families  with 
whom  Colonel  Talbot  is  connected.'  " 

"There  the  politician  peeped  out,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"Well,  at  least  he  concluded  like  a  king's  son. — 'Take  the 
passport ;  I  have  added  a  condition  for  form's  sake  ;  but  if  the 
Colonel  objects  to  it,  let  him  depart  without  giving  any  parole 
whatever.  I  come  here  to  war  with  men,  but  not  to  distress  or 
endanger  women.' " 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  to  have  been  so  much  indebted  to 
the  Pretend '" 


WAVERLEY. 


323 


•*To  the  Prince,"  said  Waverley,  smiling. 

"  To  the  ChevaUer,"  said  the  Colonel  ;  "  it  is  a  good  travel 
ling  name,  and  which  we  may  both  freely  use.  Did  he  say 
anything  more  ?  " 

"  Only  asked  if  there  was  anything  else  he  could  oblige 
me  in ;  and  when  I  replied  in  the  negative,  he  shook  me  by 
the  hand,  and  wished  all  his  followers  were  as  considerate; 
since  some  friends  of  mine  not  only  asked  all  he  had  to  bestow, 
but  many  things  which  were  entirely  out  of  his  power,  or  that 
of  the  greatest  sovereign  upon  earth.  Indeed,  he  said,  no 
prince  seemed,  in  the  eyes  of  his  followers,  so  like  the  Deity 
as  himself,  if  you  were  to  judge  from  the  extravagant  requests 
which  they  daily  preferred  to  him." 

*'  Poor  young  gentleman  !  "  said  the  Colonel ;  "  I  suppose 
Ve  begins  to  feel  the  difficulties  of  his  situation.  Well,  dear 
Wav  rley,  this  is  more  than  kind,  and  shall  not  be  forgotten 
whilo  Philip  Talbot  can  remember  anything.  My  life — pshaw 
— let  Emily  thank  you  for  that — this  is  a  favor  worth  fifty 
lives.  I  cannot  hesitate  on  giving  my  parole  in  the  circum- 
stances :  there  it  is — (he  wrote  it  out  in  form) — and  now,  how 
am  I  to  get  off?  " 

"  All  that  is  settled  :  your  baggage  is  packed,  my  horses 
wait,  rind  a  boat  has  been  engaged,  by  the  Prince's  permission, 
to  p'!t  you  on  board  the  Fox  frigate.  I  sent  a  messenger 
down  to  Leith  on  purpose." 

"That  will  do  excellently  well.  Captain  Beaver  is  my 
particul  .r  friend  :  he  will  put  me  ashore  at  Berwick  or  Shields, 
from  whence  I  can  ride  post  to  London  ; — and  you  must  en- 
trust me  with  the  packet  of  papers  which  you  recovered  by 
means  of  your  Miss  Bean  Lean.  I  may  have  an  opportunity 
of  using  them  to  your  advantage, — But  I  see  your  Highland 

friend.  Glen what  do  you  call  his  barbarous  name  ?  and 

his  orderly  with  him — I  must  not  call  him  his  orderly  cut-throat 
any  more,  I  suppose.  See  how  he  walks  as  if  the  world  were 
his  own,  with  the  bonnet  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  his  plaid 
puffed  out  across  his  breast !  I  should  like  now  to  meet  that 
yout  where  my  hands  were  not  tied ;  I  would  tame  his  pride 
or  he  ah  uld  tame  mine." 

"  For  shame,  Colonel  Talbot !  you  swell  at  sight  of  tartan, 
as  the  bull  is  said  to  do  at  scarlet.  You  and  Mac-Ivor  have 
some  p  ints  not  much  unlike,  so  far  as  national  prejudice  \t 
concerned." 

The  latter  part  of  this  discourse  took  place  in  the  street. 
They   passed  the   Chief,   the    Colonel  and  he  sternly  and 


394  WAVERIEY. 

punctiliously  greeting  each  other,  like  two  duellists  befoff 
they  take  their  ground.  It  was  evident  the  disHke  was  mutual. 
*  I  never  see  that  surly  fellow  that  dogs  his  heels,"  said  the 
Colonel,  after  he  had  mounted  his  horse,  "  but  he  reminds  m© 
of  lines  I  have  somewhere  heard — upon  the  stage,  I  think : 


Close  behind  him 


Stalks  sullen  Bertram,  like  a  sorcerer's  fiend, 
Pressing  to  be  employed." 

**  I  assure  you,  Colonel,"  said  Waverley,  *'  that  you  judge 
too  harshly  of  the  Highlanders." 

"  Not  a  whit,  not  a  whit ;  I  cannot  spare  them  a  jot — I 
cannot  bate  them  an  ace.  Let  them  stay  in  their  own  barren 
mountains,  and  puff  and  swell,  and  hang  their  bonnets  on  the 
horns  of  the  moon,  if  they  have  a  mind  :  but  what  business 
have  they  to  come  where  people  wear  breeches,  and  speak  an 
intelligible  language  1  I  mean  intelligible  in  comparison  with 
their  gibberish,  for  even  the  Lowlanders  talk  a  kind  of  English 
little  better  than  the  negroes  in  Jamaica.  I  could  pity  the 
Pr ,  I  mean  the  Chevalier  himself,  for  having  so  many  des- 
peradoes about  him.  And  they  learn  their  trade  so  early. 
There  is  a  kind  of  subaltern  imp,  for  example,  a  sort  of  suck- 
ing devil,  whom  your  friend  Glenna — Glenamuck  there,  has 
sometimes  in  his  train.  To  look  at  him  he  is  about  fifteen 
years  ;  but  he  is  a  century  old  in  mischief  and  villany.  He 
was  playing  at  quoits  the  other  day  in  the  court ;  a  gentleman 
—a  decent-looking  person  enough — came  past,  and  as  a  quoit 
hit  his  shin,  he  lifted  his  cane  :  but  my  young  bravo  whips  out 
his  pistol,  like  Beau  Clincher  in  the  trip  to  the  Jubilee,  and  had 
not  a  scream  of  Gardez  Veau  from  an  upper  window  set  all 
parties  a  scampering  for  fear  of  the  inevitable  consequences, 
the  poor  gentleman  would  have  lost  his  life  by  the  hands  of 
that  little  cockatrice." 

"  A  fine  character  you'll  give  of  Scotland  upon  your  return, 
Colonel  Talbot." 

"  O,  Justice  Shallow,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  will  save  me 
the  trouble — '  Barren,  barren — beggars  all,  beggars  all.  Marry, 
good  air,' — and  that  only  when  you  are  fairly  out  of  Edinburgh, 
and  not  yet  come  to  Leith,  as  is  our  case  at  present." 

In  a  short  time  they  arrived  at  the  sea-port : 

The  boat  rocked  at  the  pier  of  Leith, 

Full  loud  the  wind  blew  down  the  ferry ; 
The  ship  rode  at  the  Berwick  Law — — 

"Farewell,  Colonel ;  may  you  find  all  as  you  would  wish  it  I 


WAVER  LEV. 


in 


Perhaps  we  may  meet  sooner  than  you  expect :  they  talk  of  an 
Immediate  route  to  England." 

**  Tell  me  nothing  of  that,"  said  Talbot  j  "  I  wish  to  carry 
no  news  of  your  motions." 

*'  Simply  then,  adieu.  Say,  with  a  thousand  kind  greet* 
ings,  all  that  is  dutiful  and  affectionate  to  Sir  Everard  and 
Aunt  Rachel.  Think  of  me  as  kindly  as  you  can — speak  oi 
me  as  indulgently  as  your  conscience  will  permit,  and  once 
more  adieu." 

"  And  adieu,  my  dear  Waverley ! — many,  many  thanks  for 
your  kindness.  Unplaid  yourself  on  the  first  opportunity.  I 
shall  ever  think  on  you  with  gratitude,  and  the  worst  of  my 
censure  shall  be>  Que  diable  alloit-il faire  dans  cette  galere  ?  " 

And  thus  they  parted,  Colonel  Talbot  going  on  board  of 
the  boat,  and  Waverley  returning  to  Edinburgh. 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-SEVENTH. 

THE   MARCH. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  intrude  upon  the  province  of  his* 
tory.  We  shall  therefore  only  remind  our  readers,  that  about 
the  beginning  of  November  the  Young  Chevalier,  at  the  head 
of  about  six  thousand  men  at  the  utmost,  resolved  to  peril  his 
cause  on  an  attempt  to  penetrate  into  the  centre  of  p]ngland, 
although  aware  of  the  mighty  preparations  which  were  made 
for  his  reception.  They  set  forward  on  this  crusade  in  weather 
which  would  have  rendered  any  other  troops  incapable  of 
marching,  but  which  in  reality  gave  these  active  mount'^.ineers 
advantages  over  a  less  hardy  enemy.  In  defiance  of  a  superioi 
army  lying  upon  the  Borders,  under  Field  Marshal  Wade,  they 
besieged  and  took  Carlisle,  and  soon  afterwards  prosecuted 
their  daring  march  to  the  southward. 

As  Colonel  Mac-Ivor's  regiment  marched  in  the  van  of  the 
clans,  he  and  Waverley,  who  now  equalled  any  Highlander  in 
the  endurance  of  fatigue,  and  was  become  somewhat  acquainted 
with  their  language,  were  perpetually  at  its  head.  They  marked 
the  progress  of  the  army,  however,  with  very  different  eyes. 
Fergus,  all  air  and  fire,  and  confident  against  the  world  in 
arms,  measured  nothing  but  that  every  step  was  a  yard  ncarei 
(X)rHnn.     He  neither  asked,  expected,  nor  desired  any  ai(^ 


526  WAFERLEy. 

except  that  of  the  clans,  to  place  the  Stuarts  once  more  on  thj 
throne  ;  and  when  by  chance  a  few  adherents  joined  the  stand- 
ard, he  always  considered  them  in  the  light  of  new  claimants 
upon  the  favors  of  the  future  monarch,  who,  he  concluded, 
must  therefore  subtract  for  their  gratification  so  much  of  the 
bounty  which  ought  to  be  shared  among  his  Highland  fol- 
lowers. 

Edward's  views  were  very  different.  He  could  not  but 
observe,  that  in  those  towns  in  which  they  proclaimed  James 
the  Third,  "  no  man  cried,  God  bless  him."  The  mob  stared 
and  listened,  heartless,  stupefied,  and  dull,  but  gave  few  signs 
even  of  that  boisterous  spirit  which  induces  them  to  shout 
upon  all  occasions,  for  the  mere  exercise  of  their  most  sweet 
voices.  The  Jacobites  had  been  taught  to  believe  that  the 
Jiorth-western  counties  abounded  with  wealthy  squires  and 
hardy  yeomen,  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  White  Rose.  But 
of  the  wealthier  Tories  they  saw  little.  Some  fled  from  their 
houses,  some  feigned  themselves  sick,  some  surrendered  them- 
selves to  the  Government  as  suspected  persons.  Of  such 
as  remained,  the  ignorant  gazed  with  astonishment,  mixed 
with  horror  and  aversion,  at  the  wild  appearance,  unknown 
language,  and  singular  garb  of  the  Scottish  clans.  And 
to  the  more  prudent,  their  scanty  numbers,  apparent  defi- 
ciency in  discipline,  and  poverty  of  equipment,  seemed  cer- 
tain tokens  of  the  calamitous  termination  of  their  rash  under- 
taking. Thus  the  few  who  joined  them  were  such  as  bigotry 
of  political  principle  blinded  to  consequences,  or  whose  broken 
fortunes  induced  them  to  hazard  all  on  a  risk  so  desperate. 

The  Baron  of  Bradwardine  being  asked  what  he  thought  of 
these  recruits,  took  a  long  pinch  of  snuff,  and  answered  dryly, 
*'  that  he  could  not  but  have  an  excellent  opinion  of  them, 
since  they  resembled  precisely  the  followers  who  attached 
themselves  to  the  good  King  David  at  the  cave  of  Adullam  ; 
videlicet,  every  one  that  was  in  distress,  and  every  one  that  was 
in  debt,  and  every  one  that  was  discontented,  which  the  Vul- 
gate renders  bitter  of  soul  ;  and  doubtless,"  he  said,  "  they  will 
prove  mighty  men  of  their  hands,  and  there  is  much  need  that 
they  should,  for  I  have  seen  many  a  sour  look  cast  upon  us." 

But  none  of  these  considerations  moved  Fergus.  He  ad- 
mired the  luxuriant  beauty  of  the  country,  and  the  situation  of 
many  of  the  seats  which  they  passed.  "  Is  Waverley-Honout 
like  that  house,  Edward  ?  " 

"  It  is  one-half  larger." 

**  Is  your  uncle's  park  as  fine  a  one  as  that  ?  ** 


**It  is  three  times  as  extensive,  and  rather  resembles  a 
forest  than  a  mere  park." 

"  Flora  will  be  a  happy  woman." 

"  I  hope  Miss  Mac-Ivor  will  have  much  reason  for  happi- 
ness, unconnected  with  Waverley-Honour." 

"  I  hope  so  too  ;  but,  to  be  mistress  of  such  a  place,  will  be 
a  pretty  addition  to  the  sum  total." 

"  An  addition,  the  want  of  which,  I  trust,  will  be  amplji 
supplied  by  some  other  means." 

"  How,"  said  Fergus,  stopping  short,  and  turning  upon 
Waverley — "  How  am  I  to  understand  that,  Mr.  Waverley  ? — 
Had  I  the  pleasure  to  hear  you  aright  ? " 

"  Perfectly  right,  Fergus." 

"  And  am  I  to  understand  that  you  no  longer  desire  mj 
alliance,  and  my  sister's  hand  ?  " 

"Your  sister  has  refused  mine,"  said  Waverley,  "both  di- 
rectly, and  by  all  the  usual  means  by  which  ladies  repress  un- 
desired  attentions." 

"I  have  no  idea,"  answered  the  Chieftain,  "of  a  lady  dis- 
missing or  a  gentleman  withdrawing  his  suit,  after  it  has  been 
approved  of  by  her  legal  guardian,  without  giving  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  talking  the  matter  over  with  the  lady.  You  did  not, 
I  suppose,  expect  my  sister  to  drop  into  your  mouth  like  a  ripe 
plum,  the  first  moment  you  chose  to  open  it  ? " 

"As  to  the  lady's  title  to  dismiss  her  lover.  Colonel,"  replied 
Edward,  "  it  is  a  point  which  you  must  argue  with  her,  as  I  am 
ignorant  of  the  customs  of  the  Highlands  in  that  particular. 
But  as  to  my  title  to  acquiesce  in  a  rejection  from  her  without 
an  appeal  to  your  interest,  I  will  tell  you  plainly,  without  mean- 
ing to  undervalue  Miss  Mac-Ivor's  admitted  beauty  and  accom- 
plishments, that  I  would  not  take  the  hand  of  an  angel,  with  an 
empire  for  her  dowry,  if  her  consent  were  extorted  by  the  im- 
portunity of  friends  and  guardians,  and  did  not  flow  from  hei 
own  free  inclination." 

"  An  angel,  with  the  dowry  of  an  empire,"  repeated  Fergus, 
in  a  tone  of  bitter  irony,  "is  not  very  likely  to  be  pressed  upon 

a  shire   squire. — But,  sir,"  changing  his  tone,  "  if   Flora 

Mac-Ivor  have  not  the  dowry  of  an  empire,  she  is  my  sister  j 
and  that  is  sufficient  at  least  to  secure  her  against  being  treated 
with  anything  approaching  to  levity." 

"She  is  Flora  Mac-Ivor,  sir,"  said  Waverley,  with  firmness, 
"  which  to  me,  were  I  capable  of  treating  any  woman  with 
levity,  would  be  a  more  effectual  protection." 

The  brow  of  the  Chieftain  was  now  fully  clouded,  but  Edward 


jaS  WAVERLBY, 

felt  too  indignant  at  the  unreasonable  tone  which  he  had  adop« 
ed,  to  avert  the  storm  by  the  least  concession.  They  botb 
6tood  still  while  this  short  dialogue  passed,  and  Fergus  seemed 
half  disposed  to  say  somethit ;;  more  violent,  but,  by  a  strong 
effort,  suppressed  his  passion,  And  turning  his  face  forward, 
walked  sullenly  on.  As  they  had  always  hitherto  walked 
together,  and  almost  constantly  side  by  side,  Waverley  pursued 
his  course  silently  in  the  same  direction,  determined  to  let  the 
Chief  take  his  own  time  in  recoveritig  the  good  humor  which  he 
had  so  unreasonably  discarded,  anrt  firm  in  his  resolution  not 
to  bate  him  an  inch  of  dignity. 

After  they  had  marched  on  in  this  sullen  manner  about  a 
mile,  Fergus  resumed  the  discourse  in  a  different  tone.  "  I 
believe  I  was  warm,  my  dear  Edward,  but  you  provoke  mrf  with 
your  want  of  knowledge  of  the  world.  You  have  taken  pet  at 
Bome  of  Flora's  prudery,  or  high-flying  notions  of  loyalty,  and 
now,  like  a  child,  you  quarrel  with  the  plaything  you  have  been 
crj'ing  for,  and  beat  me,  your  faithful  keeper,  because  my  arm 
cannot  reach  to  Edinburgh  to  hand  it  to  you.  I  am  sure  if  I 
was  passionate,  the  mortification  of  losing  the  alliance  of  such 
a  friend,  after  your  arrangement  had  been  the  talk  of  both 
Highlands  and  Lowlands,  and  that  without  so  much  as  knowing 
v\^hy  or  wherefore,  might  well  provoke  calmer  blood  than 
mine,  I  shall  write  to  Edinburgh,  and  put  all  to  rights;  that 
is,  if  you  desire  I  should  do  so, — as  indeed  I  cannot  suppose 
that  3*our  good  opinion  of  Flora,  it  being  such  as  you  have  often 
expressed  to  me,  can  be  at  once  laid  aside." 

"  Colonel  Mac-Ivor,"  said  Edward,  who  had  no  mind  to  be 
hurried  farther  or  faster  than  he  chose,  in  a  matter  which  he 
had  already  considered  as  broken  off,  "I  am  fully  sensible  of 
the  value  of  your  good  offices  ;  and  certainly,  by  your  zeal  on 
my  beJialf  in  such  an  aft'air,  you  do  me  no  small  honor.  But 
as  Miss  Mac-Ivor  has  made  her  election  freely  and  voluntarily, 
and  as  all  my  attentions  in  Edinburgh  were  received  with  more 
than  coldness,  I  cannot,  in  justice  either  to  her  or  myself,  con- 
sent that  she  should  again  be  harassed  upon  this  topic.  I 
would  have  mentioned  this  to  you  some  time  since  ; — but  you 
saw  the  footing  upon  which  we  stood  together,  and  must  have 
understood  it.  Had  I  thought  otherwise,  I  would  have  earlier 
spoken  ;  but  I  had  a  natural  reluctance  to  enter  upon  a  subject 
so  painful  to  us  both." 

"  O,  ver)' well,  Mr.  Waverley,"  said  Fergus,  haughtily,  "  the 
thing  is  at  an  end.  I  have  no  occasion  to  press  my  sister  upoo 
any  man." 


WAVER  LEV. 


3*9 


'  Nor  have  I  any  occasion  to  court  repeated  rejection  from 
the  same  young  lady,"  answered  Edward  in  the  same  tone. 

*'  I  shall  make  due  inquiry,  however,"  said  the  Chieftain, 
without  noticing  the  interruption,  "  and  learn  what  my  sister 
thinks  of  all  this  :  we  will  then  see  whether  it  is  to  end  here." 

"  Respecting  such  inquiries,  you  will  of  course  be  guided  by 
your  own  judgment,"  said  Waverley.  "  It  is,  I  am  aware,  im- 
possible Miss  Mac-Ivor  can  change  her  mind ;  and  were  such 
an  unsupposable  case  to  happen,  it  is  certain  I  will  not  change 
mine.  I  only  mention  this  to  prevent  any  possibility  of  future 
misconstruction." 

Gladly  at  this  moment  would  Mac-Ivor  have  put  their  quarrel 
to  a  personal  arbitrament ; — his  eye  flashed  fire,  and  he  meas- 
ured Edward,  as  if  to  choose  where  he  might  best  plant  a  mor- 
tal wound.  But  although  we  do  not  now  quarrel  according  to 
the  modes  and  figures  of  Caranza  or  a  Vincent  Saviola,  no  one 
knew  better  than  Fergus  that  there  must  be  some  decent  pre- 
text for  a  mortal  duel.  For  instance,  you  may  challenge  a  man 
for  treading  on  your  corn  in  a  crowd,  or  for  pushing  you  up  to 
the  wall,  or  for  taking  your  seat  in  the  theatre  ;  but  the  modern 
code  of  honor  will  not  permit  you  to  found  a  quarrel  upon  your 
right  of  compelling  a  man  to  continue  addresses  to  a  female 
relative,  which  the  fair  lady  had  already  refused.  So  that  Fer- 
gus was  compelled  to  stomach  Ihis  supposed  affront,  until  the 
whirligig  of  time,  whose  motion  he  promised  himself  he  would 
watch  most  sedulously,  should  bring  about  an  opportunity  of 
revenge. 

Waverley's  servant  always  led  a  saddle-horse  for  him  in  the 
rear  of  the  battalion  to  which  he  was  attached,  though  his  mas- 
ter seldom  rode.  But  now,  incensed  at  the  domineering  and 
unreasonable  conduct  of  his  late  friend,  he  fell  behind  the 
column,  and  mounted  his  horse,  resolving  to  seek  the  Baron  of 
Kradwardine,  and  request  permission  to  volunteer  in  Iiis  troop, 
instead  of  the  Mac-Ivor  regiment. 

*' A  happy  time  of  it  I  should  have  had,"  thought  he,  after 
he  was  mounted,  "  to  have  been  so  closely  allied  to  this  superb 
specimen  of  pride  and  self-opinion  and  passion.  A  colonel ' 
why,  he  should  have  been  a  generalissimo.  A  petty  chief  of 
three  or  four  hundred  men  ! — his  pride  might  suffice  for  the 
Cham  of  Tartary — the  Grand  Seignior — the  Great  Mogul  !  I 
am  well  free  of  him.  Were  Flora  an  angel,  she  would  bring 
with  her  a  second  Lucifer  of  ambition  and  wrath  for  a  brother- 
in-law." 

The  Baron,  whose  learning  Hike  Sancho's  iests  while  in  the 


33» 


WAVER  LEV. 


Sierra  Morena)  seemed  to  grow  mouldy  for  want  of  exercise,  joy* 
fully  embraced  the  opportunity  of  Wa\  erley's  offering  his  service 
in  his  regiment,  to  bring  it  into  some  exertion.  The  good- 
natured  old  gentleman,  however,  labored  to  effect  a  reconcilia- 
tion between  the  two  quondam  friends.  Fergus  turned  a  cold 
ear  to  his  remonstrances,  though  he  gave  them  a  respectful  hear- 
ing ;  and  as  for  Waverley,  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
the  first  in  courting  a  renewal  of  the  intimacy  which  the  Chief- 
tain had  so  unreasonably  disturbed.  The  Baron  then  mentioned 
the  matter  to  the  Prince,  who,  anxious  to  prevent  quarrels  in 
his  little  army,  declared  he  would  himself  remonstrate  with 
Colonel  Mac-Ivor  on  the  unreasonableness  of  his  conduct. 
But,  in  the  hurry  of  their  march,  it  was  a  day  or  two  before  he 
had  an  opportunity  to  exert  his  influence  in  the  manner  pro- 
posed. 

In  the  mean  while,  Waverley  turned  the  instructions  he  had 
received  while  in  Gardiner's  dragoons  to  some  account,  and 
assisted  the  Baron  in  his  command  as  a  sort  of  adjutant. 
"  Partni  les  avengles  mi  borgne  est  roi,''^  says  the  French  proverb  ; 
and  the  cavalry,  which  consisted  chiefly  of  Lowland  gentlemen, 
their  tenants  and  servants,  formed  a  high  opinion  of  Waverley's 
skill,  and  a  great  attachment  to  his  person.  This  was  indeed 
partly  owing  to  the  satisfaction  which  they  felt  at  the  distin- 
guished English  volunteer's  leaving  the  Highlanders  to  rank 
among  them ;  for  there  was  a  latent  grudge  between  the  horse 
and  foot,  not  only  owing  to  the  difference  of  the  services,  but 
because  most  of  the  gentlemen,  living  near  the  Highlands,  had 
at  one  time  or  other  had  quarrels  with  the  tribes  in  their  vicin- 
ity, and  all  of  them  looked  with  a  jealous  eye  on  the  Highland- 
ers' avowed  pretensions  to  superior  valor,  and  utility  in  the 
Prince's  service. 


CHAPTER   FIFTY-EIGHTH. 

/HE   CONFUSION    OF    KING   AGRAMANT's   CAMP. 

It  was  Waverley's  custom  sometimes  to  ride  a  little  apart  from 
f he  main  body,  to  look  at  any  object  of  curiosity  which  occurred 
on  the  march.  They  were  now  in  Lancashire,  when,  attracted 
by  a  castellated  old  hall,  he  left  the  squadron  for  half  a«  hour, 


WAVER  LEV.  331 

fo  take  a  survey  and  slight  sketch  of  it.  As  ne  returned  down 
the  avenue,  he  was  met  by  Ensign  Maccombich,  This  man  had 
contracted  a  sort  of  regard  for  Edward  since  the  day  of  his  first 
seeing  Iiim  at  Tully-Veolan,  and  introducing  him  to  the  High- 
lands. He  seemed  to  loiter,  as  if  on  purpose  to  meet  with  our 
hero.  Yet,  as  he  passed  him,  he  only  approached  his  stirrup, 
and  pronounced  the  single  word  "  Beware  !  "  and  then  walked 
swiftly  on,  shunning  all  further  communication. 

Edward,  somewhat  surprised  at  this  hint,  followed  with  his 
eyes  the  course  of  Evan,  who  speedily  disappeared  among  the 
trees.  His  servant,  Alick  Polwarth,  who  was  in  attendance, 
also  looked  after  the  Highlander,  and  then  riding  up  close  to 
his  master,  said, 

"  The  ne'er  be  in  me,  sir,  if  I  think  you're  safe  among 
thae  Highland  rinthereouts." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Alick  ? "  said  Waverley. 

"  The  Mac-Ivors,  sir,  hae  gotten  it  into  their  heads,  that 
ye  hae  affronted  their  young  Teddy,  Miss  Flora  ;  and  I  hae 
h-eard  mae  than  ane  say,  they  wadna  tak  muckle  to  make  a 
black-cock  o'  ye  ;  and  ye  ken  weel  eneugh  there's  mony  o'  them 
wadna  mind  a  bawbee  the  weising  a  ball  through  the  Prince 
himsell,  an  the  Chief  gae  them  the  wink — or  whether  he  did 
or  no, — if  they  thought  it  a  thing  that  would  please  him  when 
it  was  dune." 

Waverley,  though  confident  that  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  was  in- 
capable of  such  treachery,  was  by  no  means  equally  sure  of  Jie 
forbearance  of  his  followers.  He  knew,  that  where  the  honor 
of  the  Chief  or  his  family  were  supposed  to  be  touched,  the 
happiest  man  would  be  he  that  could  first  avenge  the  stigma ; 
and  he  had  often  heard  them  quote  a  proverb,  "  That  the  best 
revenge  was  the  most  speedy  and  most  safe."  Coupling  this 
with  the  hint  of  Evan,  he  judged  it  most  prudent  to  set  spurs 
to  his  horse,  and  ride  briskly  back  to  the  squadron.  Ere  he 
reached  the  end  of  the  long  avenue,  however,  a  ball  whistled 
past  him,  and  the  report  of  a  pistol  was  heard. 

"  It  was  that  deevil's  buckle,  Callum  Beg,"  said  Alick  ;  "  I 
saw  him  whisk  away  through  amang  the  reises." 

Edward,  justly  incensed  at  this  act  of  treachery,  galloped 
out  of  the  avenue,  and  observed  the  battalion  of  Mac-Ivor  at 
some  distance  moving  along  the  common,  in  which  it  terminated. 
He  also  saw  an  mdividual  running  very  fast  to  join  the  party; 
this  he  concluded  was  the  intended  assassin,  who,  by  leaping 
an  enclosure,  might  easily  make  a  much  shorter  path  to  tha 
main  body  than  he  could  find  on  horseback.     Unable  to  con- 


53: 


WAVE  I? LEY. 


tain  himself  he  cominandecl  Allck  to  go  to  the  Baron  of  Brad- 
wardine,  who  was  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  about  half  a  mile 
in  front,  and  acquaint  him  with  what  had  happened.  He  him- 
self immediately  rode  up  to  Fergus's  regiment.  The  Chief 
himself  was  in  the  act  of  joining  them.  He  was  on  horseback, 
having  returned  from  wailing  on  the  Prince.  On  perceiving 
Edward  approaching,  he  put  his  horse  in  motion  towards  him, 

"  Colonel  Mac-Ivor,"  said  Waverley,  without  any  farther 
salutation,  "I  have  to  inform  you  that  one  of  your  people  has 
this  instant  fired  at  me  from  a  lurking-place." 

"  As  that,"  answered  Mac-Ivor,  "excepting  the  circumstance 
of  a  lurking-place,  is  a  pleasure  which  I  presently  propose  to 
myself,  I  should  be  glad  to  know  which  of  my  clansmen  dared 
to  anticipate  me." 

"  I  shall  certainly  be  at  your  command  whenever  you  please  ; 
■ — the  gentleman  who  took  your  office  upon  himself  is  your  page 
there,  Callum  Beg." 

"  Stand  forth  from  the  ranks,  Callum  !  Did  you  fire  at  Mr. 
Waverley  ?  " 

*'  No,"  answered  the  unblushing  Callum. 

"  You  did,"  said  Alick  Polwarth,  who  was  already  returned, 
having  met  a  trooper  by  whom  he  despatched  an  account  of 
what  was  going  forward  to  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  while  he 
himself  returned  to  his  master  at  full  gallop,  neither  sparing  the 
rowels  of  his  spurs,  nor  the  sides  of  his  horse,  "  You  did  ;  I 
saw  you  as  plainly  as  I  ever  saw  the  auld  kirk  at  Coudingham." 

*'  You  lie,"  replied  Callum,  with  his  usual  impenetrable  ob- 
^tinacy.  The  combat  between  the  knights  would  certainly,  as 
In  the  days  of  chivak}'',  have  been  preceded  by  an  encounter 
between  the  squires  (for  Alick  was  a  stout-hearted  Merseman, 
and  feared  the  bow  of  Cupid  far  more  than  a  Highlander's  dirk 
or  claymore),  but  Fergus,  with  his  usual  tone  of  decision,  de^ 
manded  Callum's  pistol.  The  cock  was  down,  the  pan  and 
muzzle  were  black  with  the  smoke  ;  it  had  been  that  instant 
fired. 

"  Take  that,"  said  Fergus,  striking  the  boy  upon  the  head 
with  the  heavy  pistol-butt  with  his  whole  force,  "  take  that  foi 
acting  without  orders,  and  lying  to  disguise  it."  Callum  re- 
ceived the  blow  without  appearing  to  flinch  from  it,  and  feU 
without  sign  of  life.  "  Stand  still,  upon  your  lives  !  "  said  Fer- 
gus to  the  re,st  of  the  clan  ;  "  I  blow  out  the  brains  of  the  first 
man  who  interferes  between  Mr.  Waverley  and  me."  They 
stood  motionless  ;  Evan  Dhu  alone  showed  symptoms  of  vexa- 
tion and  anxiety,     Callum  lay  on  the  ground  bleeding  copiously^ 


WAVE  RLE  Y.  333 

but  no  one  ventured  to  give  him  any  assistance.     It  seemed  as 

if  he  had  gotten  his  death-blow. 

"  And  now  for  you,  Mr.  Waverley ;  please  to  turn  your  horse 
twenty  yards  with  me  upon  the  common."  Waverley  complied  ; 
and  Fergus,  confronting  him  when  they  were  a  little  way  from 
the  line  of  march,  said,  with  great  affected  coolness,  *'  I  could 
not  but  wonder,  sir,  at  the  fickleness  of  taste  which  you  were 
pleased  to  express  the  other  day.  But  it  was  not  an  angel,  as 
you  justly  observed,  who  had  charms  for  you,  unless  she  brought 
an  empire  for  her  fortune.  I  have  now  an  excellent  commen- 
tary upon  that  obscure  text." 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  even  to  guess  at  your  meaning,  Colonel 
Mac-Ivor,  unless  it  seems  plain  that  you  intend  to  fasten  a 
quarrel  upon  me." 

"  Your  affected  ignorance  shall  not  serve  you,  sir.  The 
Prince, — the  Prince  himself,  has  acquainted  me  with  your  ma- 
noeuvres. I  little  thought  that  your  engagements  with  Miss 
Bradwardine  were  the  reason  of  your  breaking  off  your  in- 
tended match  with  my  sister.  I  suppose  the  information  that 
the  Baron  had  altered  the  destination  of  his  estate,  was  quite 
a  sufficient  reason  for  slighting  your  friend's  sister,  and  carry- 
ing off  your  friend's  mistress." 

"  Did  the  Prince  tell  you  I  was  engaged  to  Miss  Bradwar- 
dine ?  "  said  Waverley.     "  Impossible." 

"  He  did,  sir,"  answered  Mac-Ivor  ;  "  so,  either  draw  and 
defend  yourself,  or  resign  your  pretensions  to  the  lady." 

"  This  is  absolute  madness,"  exclaimed  Waverley,  "  or  some 
strange  mistake  I " 

"  O  !  no  evasion  I  draw  your  sword !  "  said  the  infuriated 
Chieftain, — his  own  already  unsheathed. 

"  Must  I  fight  in  a  madman's  quarrel  ?  " 

"  Then  give  up  now,  and  forever,  all  pretensions  to  Miss 
Bradwardine's  hand." 

"  What  title  have  you,"  cried  Waverley,  utterly  losing  com« 
mand  of  himself, — "  What  title  have  you,  or  any  man  living,  to 
dictate  such  terms  to  me  ? "     And  he  also  drew  his  sword. 

At  tliis  moment  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  followed  by  sev« 
eral  of  his  troop,  came  up  on  the  spur,  some  from  curiosity, 
others  to  take  part  in  the  quarrel,  which  they  indistinctly  un- 
derstood had  broken  out  between  the  Mac-Ivors  and  their  corps. 
The  clan,  seeing  them  approach,  put  themselves  in  motion  to 
support  their  Chieftain,  and  a  scene  of  confusion  commenced, 
which  seemod  likely  to  terminate  in  bloodshed.  A  hundred 
tongues   were  in  motion  at  once.     The  Baron  lectured,  thfl 


234  WAVERLEY. 

Chieftain  stormed,  the  Highlanders  screamed  in  Gaelic,  th€ 
horsemen  cursed  and  swore  in  Lowland  Scotch.  At  length 
matters  came  to  such  a  pass,  that  the  Baron  threatened  to 
charge  the  Mac-Ivors  unless  they  resumed  their  ranks,  and 
many  of  them,  in  return,  presented  their  fire-arms  at  him  and  the 
other  troopers.  The  confusion  was  privately  fostered  by  old  Bal- 
lenkeiroch,  who  made  no  doubt  that  his  own  day  of  venge 
was  arrived,  when,  behold  !  a  cry  arose  of  "  Room !  make 
way! — place  a  Monseigneur ! place  a  Monseigneurf"  this  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  the  Prince,  who  came  up  with  a  party 
of  Fitz-James's  foreign  dragoons  that  acted  as  his  body-guard. 
His  arrival  produced  some  degree  of  order.  The  Highlanders 
reassumed  their  ranks,  the  cavalry  fell  in  and  formed  squadron, 
and  the  Baron  and  Chieftain  were  silent. 

The  Prince  called  them  and  Waverley  before  him.  Having 
heard  the  original  cause  of  the  quarrel  through  the  villany  of 
Galium  Beg,  he  ordered  him  into  custody  of  the  provost-marshal 
for  immediate  execution,  in  the  event  of  his  surviving  the  chas- 
tisement inflicted  by  his  Chieftain.  Fergus,  however,  in  a  tone 
betwixt  claiming  a  right  and  asking  a  favor,  requested  he  might 
be  left  to  his  disposal,  and  promised  his  punishment  should  be 
exemplar)'.  To  deny  this,  might  have  seemed  to  encroach  on 
the  patriarchal  authority  of  the  Chieftains,  of  which  they  were 
very  jealous,  and  they  were  not  persons  to  be  disobliged.  Cal- 
lum  was  therefore  left  to  the  justice  of  his  own  tribe. 

The  Prince  next  demanded  to  know  the  new  cause  of  quar- 
rel between  Colonel  Mac-Ivor  and  Waverley.  There  was  a 
pause.  Both  gentlemen  found  the  presence  of  the  Baron  of 
Bradwardine  (for  by  this  time  all  three  had  approached  the 
Chevalier  by  his  command)  an  insurmountable  barrier  against 
entering  upon  a  subject  where  the  name  of  Jiis  daughter  must 
unavoidably  be  mentioned.  They  turned  their  eyes  on  the 
ground,  with  looks  in  which  shame  and  embarrassment  were 
mingled  with  displeasure.  The  prince,  who  had  been  educated 
amongst  the  discontented  and  mutinous  spirits  of  the  court  of 
St.  Germains,  where  feuds  of  ever}'  kind  were  the  daily  subject 
of  solicitude  to  the  dethroned  sovereign,  had  served  his  ap- 
prenticeship, as  old  Frederick  of  Prussia  would  have  said,  to 
the  trade  of  royalt)'.  To  promote  or  restore  concord  among 
his  followers  was  indispensable.  Accordingly  he  took  his 
measures. 

"  Monsieur  de  Beaujeu  !  " 

"  Monseignear !  '*  said  a  very  handsome  French  cavalry 
officer,  who  was  in  attendance. 


WA  VERLEY. 


335 


'*  Ayez  la  bont^d'alligner  ces  montagnards  Ik,  ainsi  que  la 
cavalerie,  s'il  vous  plait,  et  de  les  remettre  k  la  marche.  Yous 
parlez  si  bien  i'Anglois,  cela  ne  vous  donneroit  pas  beaucoup 
de  peine." 

"  Ah  !  pas  du  tout,  Monseigneur,"  replied  Mons.  le  Comte 
de  Beaujeu,  his  head  bending  down  to  the  neck  of  his  little 
prancing  highly-managed  charger.  Accordingly  he. piaffed  away, 
m  high  spirits  and  confidence,  to  the  head  of  Fergus's  regiment, 
although  understanding  not  a  word  of  Gaelic-  °nd  very  little 
English. 

"  Messieurs  les  sauvages  Ecossois--  aat  is — gentilmans  sav- 
ages, have  the  goodness  d'arranger  '  ous." 

The  clan,  comprehending  the  /rder  more  from  the  gesture 
than  the  words,  and  seeing  the  T  jnce  himself  present,  hastened 
to  dress  their  ranks. 

"  Ah  !  ver  well !  dat  is  fort  bien  !  "  said  the  Count  de  Beau« 
jeu.  "Gentilmans  sauvages — mais  tres  bien  —  Eh  bien  !— 
Qu'est-ce  que  vous  appelez  visage.  Monsieur  ? "  (to  a  lounging 
trooper  who  stood  by  him),  "  Ah,  oui !  face — Je  vous  remercie. 
Monsieur. — Gentilshommes,  have  de  goodness  to  make  de  face 
to  de  right  par  file,  dat  is,  by  files. — Marsh  I — Mais  tres  bien — ■ 
encore.  Messieurs  ;  il  faut  vous  mettre  a  la  marche  *  *  *  * 
Marchez  done,  au  nom  de  Dieu,  parceque  j'ai  oublie  le  mot 
Anglois — mais  vous  etes  des  braves  gens,  et  me  comprenez 
tr^s  bien." 

The  Count  next  hastened  to  put  the  cavalry  in  motion. 
**  Gentilmans  cavalry,  you  must  fall  in. — Ah  !  par  ma  foi,  I  did 
not  say  fall  off  ?  I  am  a  fear  de  little  gross  fat  gentilman  is 
moche  hurt.  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  c'est  le  Commissaire  qui  nous 
a  apportd  les  premieres  nouvelles  de  ce  maudit  fracas.  Je 
suis  trop  fache',  Monsieur  1 " 

But  poor  Macwheeble,  who,  with  a  sword  stuck  across  him, 
and  a  white  cockade  as  large  as  a  pancake,  now  figured  in  the 
character  of  a  commissary,  being  overturned  in  the  bustle  oc- 
casioned by  the  troopers  hastening  to  get  themselves  in  order 
in  the  Prince's  presence,  before  he  could  rally  his  galloway, 
slunk  to  the  rear  amid  the  unrestrained  laughter  of  the  spec- 
tators. 

"  Eh  bien,  Messieurs,  wheel  to  the  right — Ah  !  dat  is  it  !^ 
Eh,  Monsieur  de  Bradwardine,  ayez  la  bonte  de  vous  mettre  h. 
la  tete  de  votre  re'giment,  car,  par  Dieu,  je  n'en  puis  plus !  " 

The  Baron  of  Bradwardine  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  assist- 
ance of  Monsieur  de  Beaujeu,  after  he  had  fairly  expended  his 
few  English  military  phrases.     One  purpose  of  the  Chevalief 


336  WAVERLEY. 

was  thus  answered.    The  other  he  proposed  was,  that  in  eager 

ness  to  hear  and  comprehend  commands  issued  through  such 
an  indistinct  medium  in  his  own  presence,  the  thoughts  of  the 
soldiers  in  both  corps  might  get  a  current  different  from  the 
angry  channel  in  which  they  w-ere  flowing  at  the  time. 

Charles  Edward  was  no  sooner  left  with  the  Chieftain  an^. 
Waverley,  the  rest  of  his  attendants  being  at  some  distance, 
than  he  said,  "  If  1  owed  less  to  your  disinterested  friendship, 
I  could  be  most  seriously  angry  with  both  of  you  for  this  very 
extraordinary  and  causeless  broil,  at  a  moment  when  my  father's 
service  so  decidedly  demands  the  most  perfect  unanimity.  But 
the  worst  of  my  situation  is,  that  my  very  best  friends  hold 
they  have  liberty  to  ruin  themselves,  as  well  as  the  cause  they 
are  engaged  in,  upon  the  slightest  caprice." 

Both  the  young  men  protested  their  resolution  to  submit 
every  difference  to  his  arbitration.  *'  Indeed,"  said  Edward, 
"  I  hardly  know  of  what  I  am  accused.  I  sought  Colonel  Mac- 
Ivor  merely  to  mention  to  him  that  I  had  narrowly  escaped 
assassination  at  the  hand  of  his  immediate  dependent — a  das- 
tardly revenge,  which  I  knew  him  to  be  incapable  of  authorizing. 
As  to  the  cause  for  which  he  is  disposed  to  fasten  a  quarrel 
upon  me,  I  am  ignorant  of  it,  unless  it  to  be  that  he  accuses 
me,  most  unjustl}^  of  having  engaged  the  affections  of  a  youn£ 
lady  in  prejudice  of  his  pretensions." 

"'  If  there  is  an  error,"  said  the  Chieftain,  "  it  arises  from 
a  conversation  which  I  held  this  morning  with  his  Royal  High- 
ness himself." 

"  With  me  ? "  said  the  Chevalier  \  "  how  can  Colonel  Mac* 
Ivor  have  so  far  misunderstood  me  ?  " 

He  then  led  Fergus  aside,  and,  after  five  minutes'  earnest 
conversation,  spurred  his  house  towards  Edward.  "  Is  it  pos- 
sible—nay, ride  up.  Colonel,  for  I  desire  no  secrets — Is  it 
possible,  Mr.  Waverley,  that  I  am  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
you  are  an  accepted  lover  of  Miss  Bradwardine  ? — a  fact  pf 
which  I  was  by  circumstances,  though  not  by  communication 
from  you,  so  absolutely  convinced,  that  I  alleged  it  to  Vich  Ian 
Vohr  this  morning  as  a  reason  why,  without  offence  to  him, 
you  might  not  continue  to  be  ambitious  of  an  alliance,  which 
to  an  unengaged  person,  even  though  once  repulsed,  holds  out 
too  many  charms  to  be  lightly  laid  aside." 

"  Your  Royal  Highness,"  said  Waverley,  "  must  have  founded 
on  circumstances  altogether  unknown  to  me,  when  you  did  me 
the  distinguished  honor  of  supposing  me  an  accepted  lover  of 
Miss  Bradwardine.     I  feel  the  distinction  implied  in  the  suppo* 


WAVERLEY. 


321 


Bltion,  but  I  have  no  title  to  it.  For  the  rest,  my  confidence 
in  my  own  merits  is  too  justly  slight  to  admit  of  my  hoping  for 
success  in  any  quarter  after  positive  rejection." 

The  Chevalier  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  steadily  at 
them  both,  and  then  said,  "  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Waverley,  you 
are  a  less  happy  man  than  I  conceived  I  had  very  good  reason 
to  believe  you. — But  now,  gentlemen,  allow  me  to  be  umpire  in 
(this  matter,  not  as  Prince  Regent,  but  as  Charles  Stuart,  a 
brother  adventurer  with  you  in  the  same  gallant  cause.  Lay 
my  pretensions  to  be  obeyed  by  you  entirely  out  of  view,  and 
consider  your  own  honor,  and  how  far  it  is  well,  or  becoming, 
to  give  our  enemies  the  advantage,  and  our  friends  the  scandal, 
of  showing  that,  few  as  we  are,  we  are  not  united.  And  for- 
give me  if  I  add,  that  the  names  of  the  ladies  who  have  been 
mentioned  crave  more  respect  from  us  all  than  to  be  mad© 
themes  of  discord." 

He  took  Fergus  a  little  apart,  and  spoke  to  him  very  ear- 
nestly for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  then  returning  to  Waver- 
ley, said,  *'  I  believe  I  have  satisfied  Colonel  Mac-Ivor  that  his 
resentment  was  founded  upon  a  misconception,  to  which,  in- 
deed, I  myself  gave  rise  ;  and  I  trust  Mr.  Waverley  is  too 
generous  to  harbor  any  recollection  of  what  is  past,  when  I  as- 
sure him  that  such  is  the  case. — You  must  state  this  matter 
properly  to  your  clan,  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  to  prevent  a  recurrence 
of  their  precipitate  violence."  Fergus  bowed.  "  And  now, 
gentlemen,  let  me  have  the  pleasure  to  see  you  shake  hands." 

They  advanced  coldly,  and  with  measured  steps,  each  ap- 
parently reluctant  to  appear  most  forward  in  concession.  They 
did,  however,  shake  hands,  and  parted,  taking  a  respectful  leave 
of  the  Chevalier. 

Charles  Edward  ^"-  then  rode  to  the  head  of  the  Mac-Ivors, 
threw  himself  from  his  horse,  begged  a  drink  out  of  old  Ballen- 
keiroch's  canteen,  and  marched  about  half-a-mile  along  with 
them,  inquiring  into  the  history  and  connections  of  Sliochd  nan 
Ivor,  adroitly  using  the  few  words  of  Gaelic  he  possessed,  and 
affecting  a  great  desire  to  learn  it  more  thoroughly.  He  then 
mounted  his  horse  once  more,  and  galloped  to  the  Baron's 
cavalry,  which  was  in  front ;  halted  them,  and  examined  their 
accoutrements  and  state  of  discipline  \  took  notice  of  the  prin- 
cipal gentlemen,  and  even  of  the  cadets  ;  inquired  after  their 
ladies,  and  commended  their  horses  ; — rode  about  an  hour  with 
the  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  and  endured  three  long  stories  about 
Field-Marshal  the  Duke  of  Berwick. 

"  Ah,  Beaujeu,  mon  cher  ami,"  said  he  as  he  returned  to 


338  WAVERLEY. 

his  usual  place  in  the  line  of  march,  "que  mon  mdtier  de  prince 
errant  est  ennuyant,  par  fois.  Mais,  courage  1  c'est  le  grand 
jeu,  aprbs  tout."  ! 


CHAPTER  FIFTY-NINTH. 

A  SKIRMISH. 

The  reader  need  hardly  be  reminded,  that,  after  a  council 
of  war  held  at  Derby  on  the  5th  of  December,  the  Highlanders 
relinquished  their  desperate  attempt  to  penetrate  farther  into 
England,  and,  greatly  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  their  young  and 
daring  leader,  positively  determined  to  return  northward.  They 
commenced  their  retreat  accordingly,  and  by  the  extreme 
celerity  of  their  movements,  outstripped  the  motions  of  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland,  who  now  pursued  them  with  a  very  large 
body  of  cavalry. 

This  retreat  was  a  virtual  resignation  of  their  towering  hopes. 
None  had  been  so  sanguine  as  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  j  none,  conse- 
quently, was  so  cruelly  mortified  at  the  change  of  measures. 
He  argued,  or  rather  remonstrated,  with  the  utmost  vehemence 
at  the  coucil  of  war ;  and,  when  his  opinion  was  rejected,  shed 
tears  of  grief  and  indignation.  From  that  moment  his  whole 
manner  was  so  much  altered,  that  he  could  scarcely  have  been 
recognized  for  the  same  soaring  and  ardent  spirit,  for  whom 
the  whole  earth  seemed  too  narrow  but  a  week  before.  The 
retreat  had  continued  for  several  days,  when  Edward,  to  his 
surprise,  early  on  the  12th  of  December,  received  a  visit  from 
the  Chieftain  in  his  quarters,  in  a  hamlet  about  half-way  be- 
tween Shap  and  Penrith. 

Having  had  no  intercourse  with  the  Chieftain  since  their 
rupture,  Edward  waited  with  some  anxiety  an  explanation  of 
this  unexpected  visit ;  nor  could  he  help  being  surprised, 
and  somewhat  shocked,  with  the  change  in  his  appearance. 
His  eye  had  lost  much  of  its  fire  ;  his  cheek  was  hollow,  his 
voice  was  languid  ;  even  his  gait  seemed  less  firm  and  elastic 
than  it  was  wont ;  and  his  dress,  to  which  he  used  to  be  par- 
ticularly attentive,  was  now  carelessly  flung  about  him.  He 
invited  Edward  to  walk  out-  with  him  by  the  little  river  in  the 
vicinity;  and  smiled  in  a  melancholy  manner  when  he  observeij 
him  take  down  and  buckle  on  his  sword. 


WAVER  LEY.  359 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  a  wild,  sequestered  path  by  the 
side  of  the  stream,  the  Chief  broke  out, — "  Our  fine  adventure 
is  now  totally  ruined,  Waverley,  and  I  wish  to  know  what  you 
intend  to  do : — nay,  never  stare  at  me,  man.  I  tell  you  I  re- 
ceived  a  packet  from  my  sister  yesterday,  and,  had  I  got  the 
information  it  contains  sooner,  it  would  have  prevented  a 
quarrel,  which  I  am  always  vexed  when  I  think  of.  In  a  letter 
written  after  our  dispute,  I  acquainted  her  with  the  cause  of 
it ;  and  she  now  replies  to  me,  that  she  never  had,  nor  could 
have,  any  purpose  of  giving  you  encouragement ;  so  that  it 
seems  I  have  acted  like  a  madman. — Poor  Flora!  she  writes  in 
high  spirits ;  what  a  change  will  the  news  of  this  unhappy  re- 
treat make  in  her  state  of  mind  !  " 

Waverley,  who  was  really  much  affected  by  the  deep  tone 
of  melancholy  with  which  Fergus  spoke,  affectionately  entreated 
him  to  banish  from  his  remembrance  any  unkindness  which 
had  arisen  between  them,  and  they  once  more  shook  hands, 
but  now  with  sincere  cordiality.  Fergus  again  inquired  of  Wa- 
verley what  he  intended  to  do.  "  Had  you  not  better  leave 
this  luckless  army,  and  get  down  before  us  into  Scotland,  and 
embark  for  the  Continent  from  some  of  the  eastern  ports  that 
are  still  in  our  possession  ?  When  you  are  out  of  the  kingdom, 
your  friends  will  easily  negotiate  your  pardon  ;  and,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  wish  you  would  carry  Rose  Bradwardine  with  you 
as  your  \rife,  and  take  Flora  also  under  your  protection." — Ed- 
ward looked  surprised — "  She  loves  you,  and  I  believe  you  love 
her,  though,  perhaps,  you  have  not  found  it  out,  for  you  are  not 
celebrated  for  knowiiig  your  own  mind  very  pointedly."  He 
said  this  with  a  sort  of  smile. 

"  How  !  "  answered  Edward,  "  can  you  advise  me  to  desert 
the  expedition  in  which  we  are  all  embarked  ?  " 

"  Embarked  ? "  said  Fergus  ;  "  the  vessel  is  going  to  pieces, 
and  it  is  full  time  for  all  who  can,  to  get  into  the  long-boat  and 
leave  her." 

**  Why,  what  will  other  gentlemen  do  ?  "  answered  Waverley, 
"  and  why  did  the  Highland  Chiefs  consent  to  this  retreat,  if  it 
is  so  ruinous  .?  " 

"  O,"  replied  Mac-Ivor,  "  they  think  that,  as  on  former  oc 
casions,  the  heading,  hanging,  and  forfeiting,  will  chiefly  fall 
to  the  lot  of  the  Lowland  gentry  ;  that  they  will  be  left  secure 
in  their  poverty  and  their  fastnesses,  there,  according  to'theii 
proverb,  '  to  listen  to  the  wind  upon  the  hill  till  the  waters 
abate.'  i3ut  they  will  be  disappointed  ;  they  have  been  too 
often  iroi-'biesome  to  be  so  repeatedly  passed  over,  and  thii 


540 


WAVER  LEY, 


time  John  Bull  has  been  too  heartily  frightened  to  recover  hii 
good  humor  for  some  time.  The  Hanoverian  ministers  alwayi 
deserved  to  be  hanged  for  rascals ;  but  now,  if  they  get  the 
power  in  their  hands, — as,  sooner  or  later  they  must,  since 
there  is  neither  rising  in  England  nor  assistance  from  France, 
— they  will  deserve  the  gallows  as  fools,  if  they  leave  a  single 
clan  in  the  Highlands  in  a  situation  to  be  again  troublesome 
to  Government.  Ay,  they  will  make  root-and-branch-work,  I 
warrant  them." 

"  And  while  you  recommend  flight  to  me,"  said  Edward, — • 
"a  counsel  which  I  would  rather  die  than  embrace, — what  are 
your  own  views  ?  " 

"  O,"  answered  Fergus,  with  a  melancholy  air,  "  my  fate  is 
settled.     Dead  or  captive  I  must  be  before  to-morrow." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  my  friend  ?  "  said  Edward. 
*  The  enemy  is  still  a  day's  march  in  our  rear,  and  if  he  comes 
up,  we  are  still  strong  enough  to  keep  him  in  check.  Remem- 
ber Gladsmuir." 

"  What  1  tell  you  is  true  notwithstanding,  so  far  as  I  am 
individually  concerned." 

"  Upon  what  authority  can  you  found  so  melancholy  a  pre- 
diction 1  "  asked  \Vaverley. 

"  On  one  which  never  failed  a  person  of  my  house.  I  have 
seen,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice,  "  I  have  seen  the  Bodach 
Glas." 

"  Bodach  Glas  ?  " 

•'  Yes  :  have  you  been  so  long  at  Glennaquoich,  and  never 
heard  of  the  Gray  Spectre  ?  though  indeed  there  is  a  certain 
reluctance  among  us  to  mention  him." 

"  No,  never." 

"  Ah  !  it  would  have  been  a  tale  for  poor  Flora  to  have  told 
you.  Or,  if  that  hill  were  Benmore,  and  that  long  blue  lake, 
which  you  see  just  winding  towards  yon  mountainous  country, 
were  Loch  Tay,  or  my  own  Loch  an  Ri,  the  tale  would  be 
better  suited  with  scener}'.  However,  let  us  sit  down  on  this 
knoll ;  even  Saddleback  and  Ullswater  will  suit  what  I  have 
to  say  better  than  the  English  hedge-rows,  enclosures,  and 
farm-houses.  You  must  know,  then,  that  when  my  ancestor, 
Ian  nan  Chaistel,  wasted  Northumberland,  there  was  associated 
with  him  in  the  expedition  a  sort  of  Southland  Chief,  or  captain 
of  a  band  of  Lowlanders,  called  Halbert  Hall.  In  their  return 
through  the  Cheviots,  they  quarrelled  about  the  division  of  the 
great  booty  they  had  acquired,  and  came  from  words  to  blows. 
The  Lowlanders  were  cut  off  to  a  man,  and  their  chief  fell  the 


WAVERLEY.  9^x 

last,   covered  with  wounds  by  the  sword  of  my  ancestors. 

Since  that  time,  his  spirit  has  crossed  the  Vich  Ian  Vohr  ol 
the  day  when  any  great  disaster  was  impending,  but  especially 
before  approaching  death.  My  father  saw  him  twice  ;  onca 
before  he  was  made  prisoner  at  Sherififmuir ;  another  time,  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  he  died." 

"  How  can  you,  my  dear  Fergus,  tell  such  nonsense  with  a 
grave  face  ? " 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  believe  it ;  but  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
ascertained  by  three  hundred  years'  experience  at  least,  and 
last  night  by  my  own  eyes." 

"The  particulars,  for  heaven's  sake  !  "  said  Waverley,  with 
eagerness^ 

"  I  will,  on  condition  you  will  not  attempt  a  jest  on  the 
subject. — Since  this  unhappy  retreat  commenced,  I  have  scarce 
ever  been  able  to  sleep  for  thinking  of  my  clan,  and  of  this 
poor  Prince,  whom  they  are  leading  back  like  a  dog  in  a  string, 
whether  he  will  or  no,  and  of  the  downfall  of  my  family.  Last 
night  I  felt  so  feverish  that  I  left  my  quarters,  and  walked  out, 
in  hopes  the  keen  frosty  air  would  brace  my  nerves 1  can- 
not tell  how  much  I  dislike  going  on,  for  I  know  you  will  hardly 
believe  me.  However — I  crossed  a  small  foot-bridge,  and 
kept  walking  backwards  and  forwards,  when  I  observed  with 
surprise  by  the  clear  moonlight,  a  tall  figure  in  a  gray  plaid, 
such  as  shepherds  wear  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  which,  move 
at  what  pace  I  would,  kept  regularly  about  four  yards  before 
me." 

"  You  saw  a  Cumberland  peasant  in  his  ordinary  dress, 
probably." 

"  No  :  I  thought  so  at  first,  and  was  astonished  at  the  man's 
audacity  in  daring  to  dog  nie.  I  called  to  him  but  received  no 
answer.  I  felt  an  anxious  throbbing  at  my  heart ;  and  to  as- 
certain what  I  dreaded,  I  stood  still,  and  turned  myself  on  the 
same  spot  successively  to  the  four  points  of  the  compass — By 
Heaven,  Edward,  turn  where  I  would,  the  figure  was  nstantly 
before  my  eyes,  at  precisely  the  same  distance  !  I  was  then 
convinced  it  was  the  Bodach  Glas.  My  hair  bristled,  and  my 
knees  shook.  I  manned  myself,  however,  and  determined  to 
return  to  my  quarters.  My  ghastly  visitant  glided  before  me 
(for  I  cannot  say  he  walked),  until  he  reached  the  foot-bridge : 
there  he  stopped,  and  turned  full  round.  I  must  either  wade 
the  river,  or  pass  him  as  close  as  I  am  to  you.  A  desperate 
courage,  founded  on  the  belief  that  my  death  was  near,  made 
me  resolve  to  make  my  way  in  despite  of  him.     I  made  th« 


542 


WAVE  RLE  Y, 


sign  of  the  cross,  drew  my  sword,  and  uttered,  *  In  the  name  of 

God,  Evil  Spirit  give  place  ! '  '  Vich  Ian  Vohr,'  it  said,  in  a 
voice  that  made  my  very  blood  curdle,  'beware  of  to-morrow!' 
It  seemed  at  that  moment  not  half  a  yard  from  my  sword's 
point ;  but  the  words  were  no  sooner  spoken  than  it  was  gone, 
and  nothing  appeared  further  to  obstruct  my  passage.  I  got 
home,  and  threw  myself  on  my  bed,  where  I  spent  a  few  hours 
heavily  enough  ;  and  this  morning,  as  no  enemy  was  reported 
to  be  near  us,  I  took  my  horse,  and  rode  forward  to  make  up 
matters  with  you.  I  would  not  willingly  fall  until  I  am  in 
charity  with  a  wronged  friend." 

Edward  had  little  doubt  that  this  phantom  was  the  opera- 
tion of  an  exhausted  frame  and  depressed  spirits,  woiking  on 
the  belief  common  to  all  Highlanders  in  such  superstitions. 
He  did  not  the  less  pity  Fergus,  for  whom,  in  his  present  dis- 
tress, he  felt  all  his  former  regard  revive.  With  the  view  of 
diverting  his  mind  from  these  gloomy  images,  he  offered  with 
the  Baron's  permission,  which  he  knew  he  could  readily  obtain^ 
to  remain  in  his  quarters  till  Fergus's  corps  should  come  up, 
and  then  to  march  with  them  as  usual.  The  chief  seemed 
much  pleased,  yet  hestitated  to  accept  the  offer. 

"  We  are,  you  know,  in  the  rear, — the  post  of  danger  in  a 
retreat." 

"  And  therefore  the  post  of  honor." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Chieftain,  "  let  Alick  have  your  horse 
in  readiness,  in  case  we  should  be  over-matched,  and  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  have  your  company  once  more.'' 

The  rear-guard  were  late  in  making  their  appearance,  hav- 
ing been  delayed  by  various  accidents  and  by  the  badness  of 
the  roads.  At  length  they  entered  the  hamlet.  When  Waver- 
ley  joined  the  clan  Mac-Ivor,  arm  in  arm  with  their  Chieftain, 
all  the  resentment  they  had  entertained  against  him  seemed 
blown  off  at  once.  Evan  Dhu  received  him  with  a  grin  of  con- 
gratulation ;  and  even  Callum,  who  was  running  about  as 
active  as  ever,  pale  indeed,  and  with  a  great  patch  on  his  head, 
appeared  delighted  to  see  him. 

"That  gallows-bird's  skull,"  said  Fergus,  "must  be  hardei 
than  marble  :  the  lock  of  the  pistol  was  actually  broken." 

"  How  could  you  strike  so  young  a  lad  so  hard  ?  "  said  Wa- 
verley,  with  some  interest. 

"  Why,  if  I  did  not  strike  hard  sometimes,  the  rascals  would 
forget  themselves." 

They  were  now  in  full  march,  every  caution  being  taken  td 
prevent  surprise.     Fergus's  ni>os5j[e,,  and  a  fine  clan  regiment 


WAVERLEY. 


343 


h  jm.  Badenoch,  commanded  by  Cluny  Mac-Pherson,  had  the 
rear.  They  had  passed  a  large  open  moor,  and  were  entering 
into  the  enclosures  which  surround  a  small  village  called  Clif- 
ton. The  winter  sun  had  set,  and  Edward  began  to  rally  Fer- 
gus upon  the  false  predictions  of  the  Gray  Spirit.  "  The  Ides 
of  March  are  not  past,"  said  Mac-Ivor,  with  a  smile ;  when, 
suddenly  casting  his  eyes  back  on  the  moor,  a  large  body  of 
cavalry  was  indistinctly  seen  to  hover  upon  its  brown  and  dark 
surface.  To  line  the  enclosures  facing  the  open  ground  and 
the  road  by  which  the  enemy  must  move  from  it  upon  the  vil- 
lage, was  the  work  of  a  short  time.  While  these  manoeuvres 
were  accomplishing,  night  sunk  down,  dark  and  gloomy,  though 
the  moon  was  at  full.  Sometimes,  however,  she  gleamed  forth 
a  dubious  light  upon  the  scene  of  action. 

The  Highlanders  did  not  remain  long  undisturbed  in  the 
defensive  position  they  had  adopted.  Favored  by  the  night, 
one  large  body  of  dismounted  dragoons  attempted  to  force  the 
enclosures,  while  another,  equally  -strong,  strove  to  penetrate 
by  the  high  road.  Both  were  received  by  such  a  heavy  fire  as 
disconcerted  their  ranks,  and  effectually  checked  their  progress. 
Unsatisfied  with  the  advantage  thus  gained,  Fergus,  to  whose 
iident  spirit  the  approach  of  danger  seemed  to  restore  all  its 
elasticity,  drawing  his  sword,  and  calling  out  "  Claymore  !  " 
encouraged  his  men.  by  voice  and  example,  to  break  through 
the  hedge  which  divided  them,  and  rush  down  upon  the  enemy. 
Mingling  with  the  dismounted  dragoons,  they  forced  them,  at 
the  sword  point,  to  fly  to  the  open  moor,  where  a  considerable 
number  were  cut  to  pieces.  But  the  moon  which  suddenly 
shone  out,  showed  to  the  English  the  small  number  of  assail- 
ants, disordered  by  their  own  success.  Two  squadrons  of  horse 
moving  to  the  support  of  their  companions,  the  Highlanders 
endeavored  to  recover  the  enclosures.  But  several  of  them, 
amongst  others  their  brave  Chieftain,  were  cut  off  and  sur- 
rounded before  they  could  effect  their  purpose.  Waverley, 
looking  eagerly  for  Fergus,  from  whom,  as  well  as  from  the 
retreating  body  of  his  followers,  he  had  been  separated  in  the 
darkness  and  tumult,  saw  him,  with  Evan  Dhu  and  Galium, 
defending  themselves  desperately  against  a  dozen  of  horsemen, 
who  were  hewing  at  them  with  their  long  broadswords.  The 
moon  was  again  at  that  moment  totally  overclouded,  and  Ed- 
ward, in  the  obscurity,  could  neither  bring  aid  to  his  friends, 
nor  discover  which  way  lay  his  own  road  to  rejoin  the  rear- 
guard. After  once  or  twice  narrowly  escaping  being  slain  or 
made  prisoner  by  parties  of  the  cavalry  whom  he  encountered 


344 


tVAVERLEY. 


in  the  darkness,  ne  at  length  reached  an  enclosure,  and  claro 
bering  over  it,  concluded  himself  in  safety,  and  on  the  way  ta 
the  Highland  forces,  whose  pipes  he  heard  at  some  distance' 
For  Fergus  hardly  a  hope  remained,  unless  that  he  might  be 
made  prisoner.  Revolving  his  fate  with  sorrow  and  anxiety, 
the  superstition  of  the  Bodach  Glas  recurred  to  Edward'a 
recollection,  and  he  said  to  himself,  with  internal  surprise 
*•  What,  can  the  devil  speak  truth  ?  " 


CHAPTER  SIXTIETH. 

CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS. 

Edward  was  in  a  most  unpleasant  and  dangerous  situation 
He  soon  lost  the  sound  of  the  bagpipes ;  and,  what  was  yet 
more  unpleasant,  when,  after  searching  long  in  vain,  and 
scrambling  through  many  enclosures,  he  at  length  approached 
the  high  road,  he  learned,  from  the  unwelcome  noise  of  kettle- 
drums and  trumpets,  that  the  English  Cavalry  now  occupied 
it,  and  consequently  were  between  him  and  the  Highlanders. 
Precluded,  therefore,  from  advancing  in  a  straight  direction,  he 
resolved  to  avoid  the  English  militar}',  and  endeavor  to  join 
his  friends  by  making  a  circuit  to  the  left,  for  which  a  beaten 
path  deviating  from  the  main  road  in  that  direction,  seemed  to 
afford  facilities.  The  path  was  mudd}',  and  the  night  dark  and 
cold  ;  but  even  these  inconveniences  were  hardly  felt  amiast 
the  apprehensions  which  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  King's 
forces  reasonably  excited  in  his  bosom. 

After  walking  about  three  miles,  he  at  length  reached  a 
hamlet.  Conscious  that  the  common  people  were  in  general 
unfavorable  to  the  cause  he  had  espoused,  yet  desirous,  it 
possible,  to  procure  a  horse  and  guide  to  Penrith,  where  he 
hoped  to  find  the  rear,  if  not  the  main  body,  of  the  Chevalier's 
army,  he  approached  the  alehouse  of  the  place.  There  was  a 
great  noise  within :  he  paused  to  listen.  A  round  English 
oath  or  two,  and  the  burden  of  a  campaign  song,  convinced 
him  the  hamlet  also  was  occupied  by  the  Duke  of  Cumber 
land's  soldiers.  Endeavoring  to  retire  from  it  as  softly  as 
possible,  and  blessing  the  obscurity  which  hitherto  he  had 
murmured  against,  Waverley  groped  his  way  the  best  he  could 
along  a  small  paling,  ^^hich  seemed  the  boundary  of  some  cot' 


IVAVERLBY. 


345 


lage  garden.  As  he  reached  the  gate  of  this  little  enclosure, 
his  outstretched  hand  was  grasped  by  that  of  a  female,  whose 
voice  at  the  same  time  uttered,  "  Edward,  is't  thou,  man  ?  " 

"  Here  is  some  unlucky  mistake,"  thought  Edward,  strug« 
gling,  but  gently,  to  disengage  himself. 

"  Naen  o'  thy  foun,  now,  man,  or  the  red  cwoats  will  hear 
thee  ;  they  hae  been  houlerying  and  poulerying  every  ane  that 
past  alehouse  door  this  noight  to  make  them  drive  their  wag- 
gons and  sick  loike.  Come  into  feyther's,  or  they'll  do  ho  a 
tnischief." 

"  A  good  hint,"  thought  Waverley,  following  the  girl  through 
the  little  garden  into  a  brick-paved  kitchen,  where  she  set  her- 
self to  kindle  a  m&tch  at  an  expiring  fire,  and  with  the  match 
to  light  a  candle.  She  had  no  sooner  looked  on  Edward,  than 
she  dropped  the  light,  with  a  shrill  scream  of  "O  feytherl 
feyther ! " 

The  father,  thus  invoked,  speedily  appeared, — a  sturdy  oM 
farmer,  in  a  pair  of  leather  breeches  and  boots  pulled  on  with- 
out stockings,  having  just  started  from  his  bed  ; — the  rest  of 
his  dress  was  only  a  Westmoreland  statesman's  robe-de-cham- 
bre, — that  is,  his  shirt.  His  figure  was  displayed  to  advantage, 
by  a  candle  which  he  bore  in  his  left  hand ;  in  his  right  he 
brandished  a  poker. 

"  What  hast  ho  here,  wench  ?  " 

"  O  !  "  cried  the  poor  girl,  almost  going  off  in  hysterics,  *'  I 
thought  it  was  Ned  Williams,  and  it  is  one  of  the  plaid-men  ! " 

"  And  what  was  thee  ganging  to  do  wi'  Ned  Williams  at 
this  time  o'  noight  ?  "  To  this,  which  was,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
numerous  class  of  questions  more  easily  asked  than  answered, 
the  rosy-cheeked  damsel  made  no  reply,  but  continued  sobbing 
and  wringing  her  hands. 

"  And  thee,  lad,  dost  ho  know  that  the  dragoons  be  a  town? 
Dost  ho  know  that,  mon  ? — ad,  they'll  sliver  thee  loike  a  turnip, 
mon." 

"  I  know  my  life  is  in  great  danger,"  said  Waverley,  "but 
tf  you  can  assist  me,  I  will  reward  you  handsomely.  I  am  no 
Scotchman,  but  an  unfortunate  English  gentleman." 

"  Be  ho  Scot  or  no,"  said  the  honest  farmer,  "  I  wish  thou 
hadst  kept  the  other  side  of  the  hallan.  But  since  thou  art 
here,  Jacob  Jopson  will  betray  no  man's  bluid  ;  and  the  plaids 
were  gey  canny,  and  did  not  so  much  mischief  when  they  were 
here  yesterday."  Accordingly  he  set  seriously  about  sheltering 
and  refreshing  our  hero  for  the  night.  The  fire  was  speedily 
rekindled,  but  with  precaution  against  its  light  being  seen  from 


(|5  WAVERLEY. 

ithout.  The  jolly  yeoman  cut  a  rasher  of  bacon,  which  Cicely 
oon  broiled,  and  her  father  added  a  swinging  tankard  of  his 
est  ale.  It  was  settled,  that  Edward  should  remain  there  till 
he  troops  marched  in  the  morning,  then  hire  or  buy  a  horse 
rom  the  farmer,  and,  with  the  best  directions  that  could  bd 
btained,  endeavor  to  overtake  his  friends.  A  clean,  though 
oarse  bed,  received  him  after  the  fatigues  of  this  unhappy  day. 

With  the  morning  arrived  the  news  that  the  Highlanders 
ad  evacuated  Penrith,  and  marched  off  towards  Carlisle  ;  that 
he  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  in  possession  of  Penrith,  and 
hat  detachments  of  his  army  covered  the  roads  in  every  direc- 
tion. To  attempt  to  get  through  undiscovered,  would  be  an 
act  of  the  most  frantic  temerity.  Ned  Williams  (the  right  Ed* 
ward)  was  now  called  to  council  by  Cicely  and  her  father.  Ned 
who  perhaps  did  not  care  that  his  handsome  namesake  should 
remain  too  long  in  the  same  house  with  his  sweetheart,  for 
fear  of  fresh  mistakes,  proposed  that  Waverley,  exchanging 
his  uniform  and  plaid  for  the  dress  of  the  country,  should 
go  with  him  to  his  father's  farm  near  Ullswater,  and  remain  in 
that  undisturbed  retirement  until  the  military  movements  in 
the  country  should  have  ceased  to  render  his  departure  hazard- 
ous. A  price  was  also  agreed  upon,  at  which  the  stranger 
might  board  with  Farmer  Williams,  if  he  thought  proper,  till 
he  could  depart  with  safety.  It  was  of  moderate  amount ;  the 
distress  of  his  situation,  among  this  honest  and  simple-hearted 
race,  being  considered  as  no  reason  for  increasing  their  de- 
mand. 

The  necessary  articles  of  dress  were  accordingly  procured ; 
and,  by  following  by-paths,  known  to  the  young  farmer,  they 
hoped  to  escape  any  unpleasant  rencontre.  A  recompense 
for  their  hospitality  was  refused  peremptorily  by  old  Jopson 
and  his  cherrj'-cheeked  daughter ;  a  kiss  paid  the  one,  and  a 
hearty  shake  of  the  hand  the  other.  Both  seemed  anxious  for 
their  guest's  safety,  and  took  leave  of  him  with  kind  wishes. 

In  the  course  of  their  route,  Edward,  with  his  guide,  tra- 
versed those  fields  which  the  night  before  had  been  the  scene 
of  action.  A  brief  gleam  of  December's  sun  shone  sadly  on 
the  broad  heath,  which,  towards  the  spot  where  the  great  north- 
west road  entered  the  enclosure  of  Lord  Lonsdale's  property, 
exhibited  dead  bodies  of  men  and  horses,  and  the  usual  com- 
panions of  war — a  number  of  carrion-crows,  hawks,  and  ravens. 

"  And  this,  then,  was  thy  last  field,"  said  Waverley  to  him- 
self, his  eve  filling  at  the  recollection  of  the  many  splendid 
points  of  Fergus's  character,  and  of  their  former  intimacy,  all 


WAVER  LEY. 


34? 


his  passions  ancl  imperfections  forgotten, — "Here  fell  the  last 
Vich  Ian  Vohr,  on  a  nameless  heath  ;  and  in  an  obscure  night- 
skirmish  was  quenched  that  ardent  spirit,  who  thought  it  little 
to  cut  a  way  for  his  master  to  the  British  throne  !  Ambition, 
policy,  bravery,  all  far  beyond  their  sphere,  here  learned  the 
fate  of  mortals.  The  sole  support,  too,  of  a  sister,  whose  spirit, 
as  proud  and  unbending,  was  even  more  exalted  than  thine 
own  ;  here  ended  all  thy  hopes  for  Flora,  and  the  long  and 
valued  line  which  it  was  thy  boast  to  raise  yet  more  highly  by 
thy  adventurous  valor  !  " 

As  these  ideas  pressed  on  Waverley's  mind,  he  resolved  to 
go  upon  the  open  heath,  and  search  if,  among  the  slain,  he 
could  discover  the  body  of  his  friend,  with  the  pious  intention 
of  procuring  for  him  the  last  rites  of  sepulture.  The  timorous 
young  man  who  accompanied  him  remonstrated  upon  the  dan- 
ger of  the  attempt,  but  Edward  was  determined.  The  fol- 
lowers of  camp  had  already  stripped  the  dead  of  all  they  could 
carry  away  ;  but  the  country  people,  unused  to  scenes  of  blood, 
had  not  yet  approached  the  field  of  action,  though  some  stood 
fearfully  gazing  at  a  distance.  About  sixty  or  seventy  dragoons 
lay  slain  within  the  first  enclosure,  upon  the  high  road,  and  on 
the  open  moor.  Of  the  Highlanders,  not  above  a  dozen  had 
fallen,  chiefly  those  who,  venturing  too  far  on  the  moor,  could 
not  regain  the  strong  ground.  He  could  not  find  the  body  of 
Fergus  among  the  slain.  On  a  little  knoll,  separated  from  the 
others,  lay  the  carcasses  of  three  English  dragoons,  two  horses, 
and  the  page  Galium  Beg,  whose  hard  skull  a  trooper's  broad- 
sword had,  at  length,  effectually  cloven.  It  was  possible  his 
clan  had  carried  off  the  body  of  Fergus ;  but  it  was  also  possi- 
ble he  had  escaped,  especially  as  Evan  Dhu,  who  would  never 
leave  his  chief,  was  not  found  among  the  dead  ;  or  he  might 
be  prisoner,  and  the  less  formidable  denunciation  inferred  from 
the  appearance  of  the  Bodach  Glas  might  have  proved  the  true 
one.  The  approach  of  a  party,  sent  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
pelling the  country  people  to  bury  the  dead,  and  who  had  al- 
ready assembled  several  peasants  for  that  purpose,  now  obliged 
Edward  to  rejoin  his  guide,  who  awaited  him  in  great  anxiet) 
and  fear  under  shade  of  the  plantations. 

After  leaving  this  field  of  death,  the  rest  of  their  journey 
was  happily  accomplished.  At  the  house  of  Farmer  Williams, 
Edward  passed  for  a  young  kinsman,  educated  for  the  church, 
tvho  was  come  to  reside  there  till  the  civil  tumults  permitteO 
him  to  pass  through  the  country.  This  silenced  suspicion 
among  the  kind  ar.d  simple  yeomanry  of  Cumberland,  and  ao 


348  WAVERLEY. 

counted  sufficiently  for  the  grave  manners  and  retired  habits 
of  the  new  guest.  The  precaution  became  more  necessary 
than  Waverley  had  anticipated,  as  a  variety  of  incidents  pro- 
longed his  stay  at  Fasthwaite,  as  the  farm  was  called. 

A  tremendous  fall  of  snow  rendered  his  departure  impossi- 
ble for  more  than  ten  days.  When  the  roads  began  to  become 
a  little  practicable,  they  successively  received  news  of  the  re 
treat  of  the  Chevalier  into  Scotland  ;  then,  that  he  had  aban- 
doned the  frontiers,  retiring  upon  Glasgow;  and  that  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland  had  formed  the  siege  of  Carlisle.  His  army, 
therefore,  cut  off  all  possibility  of  Waverley's  escaping  into 
Scotland  in  that  direction.  On  the  eastern  border.  Marshal 
Wade,  with  a  large  force,  was  advancing  upon  Edinburgh  ; 
and  all  along  the  frontier,  parties  of  militia,  volunteers,  and 
partisans,  were  in  arms  to  suppress  insurrection,  and  appre- 
hend such  stragglers  from  the  Highland  army  as  had  been  left 
in  England.  The  surrender  of  Carlisle,  and  the  severity  with 
which  the  rebel  garrison  were  threatened,  soon  formed  an  ad- 
ditional reason  against  venturing  upon  a  solitary  and  hopeless 
journey  through  a  hostile  country  and  a  large  army,  to  carry 
the  assistance  of  a  single  sword  to  a  cause  which  seemed  alto- 
gether desperate. 

In  this  lonely  and  secluded  situation,  without  the  advan- 
tage of  company  or  conversation  with  men  of  cultivated  minds, 
the  arguments  of  Colonel  Talbot  often  recurred  to  the  mind  of 
our  hero.  A  still  more  anxious  recollection  haunted  his  slum- 
bers— it  was  the  dying  look  and  gesture  of  Colonel  Gardiner. 
Most  devoutly  did  he  hope,  as  the  rarely  occurring  post  brought 
news  of  skirmishes  with  various  success,  that  it  might  never 
again  be  his  lot  to  draw  his  sword  in  civil  conflict.  Then  his 
mind  turned  to  the  supposed  death  of  Fergus,  to  the  desolate 
situation  of  Flora,  and,  with  yet  more  tender  recollection,  to 
that  of  Rose  Bradwardine,  who  was  destitute  of  the  devoted 
enthusiasm  of  loyalty,  which,  to  her  friend,  hallowed  and  ex- 
alted misfortune.  These  reveries  he  was  permitted  to  enjoy, 
undisturbed  by  queries  or  interruption  ; — and  it  was  in  many  a 
winter  walk  by  the  shores  of  Ullswater,  that  he  acquired  a 
more  complete  mastery  of  a  spirit  tamed  by  adversity  than  his 
former  experience  had  given  him  ;  and  that  he  felt  himself  en- 
titled to  say  firmly,  though  perhaps  with  a  sigh,  that  the  ro- 
mance of  his  life  was  ended,  and  that  its  real  history  had  no\« 
commenced.  He  was  soon  called  upon  to  justify  his  DreteO" 
isious  by  reason  and  philosophy. 


WAVERLEY.',  349 

CHAPTER  SIXTY-FIRST. 

A   JOURNEY   TO    LONDON. 

The  family  at  Fasthwaite  were  soon  attached  to  Edward. 
He  had,  indeed,  that  gentleness  and  urbanity  which  ahnost 
universally  attracts  corresponding  kindness  ;  and  to  their  sim' 
pie  ideas  his  learning  gave  him  consequence,  and  his  sorrows 
interest.  The  last  he  ascribed,  evasively,  to  the  loss  of  a 
brother  in  the  skirmish  near  Clifton  ;  and  in  that  primitive 
state  of  society,  where  the  ties  of  affection  were  highly  deemed 
of,  his  continued  depression  excited  sympathy,  but  not  sur- 
prise. 

In  the  end  of  January,  his  more  lively  powers  were  called 
out  by  the  happy  union  of  Edward  Williams,  the  son  of  his 
host,  with  Cicely  Jopson.  Our  hero  would  not  cloud  with 
sorrow  the  festivity  attending  the  wedding  of  two  persons  to 
whom  he  was  so  highly  obliged.  He  therefore  exerted  himself, 
danced,  sung,  played  at  the  various  games  of  the  day,  and  waa 
the  blithest  of  the  company.  The  next  morning,  however,  he 
had  more  serious  matters  to  think  of. 

The  clergyman  who  had  married  the  young  couple  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  supposed  student  of  divinity,  that  he 
came  next  day  from  Penrith  on  purpose  to  pay  him  a  visit. 
This  might  have  been  a  puzzling  chapter  had  he  entered  into 
any  examination  of  our  hero's  supposed  theological  studies ; 
but  fortunately  he  loved  better  to  hear  and  communicate  the 
news  of  the  day.  He  brought  with  him  two  or  three  old  news- 
papers, in  one  of  which  Edward  found  a  piece  of  intelligenca 
that  soon  rendered  him  deaf  to  every  word  which  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Twigtythe  was  saying  upon  the  news  from  the  north,  and 
the  prospect  of  the  Duke's  speedily  overtaking  and  crushing 
the  rebels.  This  was  an  article  in  these,  or  nearly  these 
words  : 

"  Died  at  his  house,  in  Hill  Street,  Berkeley  Square,  upon 
the  loth  inst.,  Richard  Waverley,  Esq.,  second  son  of  Sil 
Giles  Waverley  of  Waverley-Honour,  etc., etc.  He  died  of  q 
lingering  disorder,  augmented  by  the  unpleasant  predicament 
of  suspicion  in  which  he  stood,  having  been  obliged  to  find  bail 
to  a  high  amount,  to  meet  an  impending  accusation  of  high* 
'ireason.     An  accusation  of  the  same  grave  crime  hangs  ovei 


3SO 


WAVERLEY. 


his  elder  brother,  Sir  Everard  Waverley,  the  representative  <A 
that  ancient  family ;  and  we  understand  the  day  of  his  trial 
will  be  fixed  early  in  the  next  month  unless  Edward  Waverley, 
son  of  the  deceased  Richard,  and  heir  to  the  Baronet,  shall 
surrender  himself  to  justice.  In  that  case,  we  are  assured,  it 
is  his  Majesty's  gracious  purpose  to  drop  further  j"oceedings 
upon  the  charge  against  Sir  Everard.  This  unfortunate  young 
gentleman  is  ascertained  to  have  been  in  arms  in  the  Preten- 
der's service,  and  to  have  marched  along  with  the  Highland 
r '<•)!  sinto  England.  But  he  has  not  been  heard  of  since  the 
skirmish  at  Clifton,  on  the  iSth  December  last." 

Such  was  this  distracting  paragraph.  "  Good  God  !  "  ex- 
claimed Waverley,  "  am  I  then  a  parricide  ? — Impossible  !  My 
father,  who  never  showed  the  affection  of  a  father  while  he 
lived,  cannot  have  been  so  much  affected  by  my  supposed  death 
as  to  hasten  his  own.  No,  I  will  not  believe  it, — it  were  dis- 
traction to  entertain  for  a  moment  such  a  horrible  idea.  But 
it  were,  if  possible,  worse  than  parricide  to  suffer  any  danger  to 
hang  over  my  noble  and  generous  uncle,  who  has  ever  been 
more  to  me  than  a  father,  if  such  evil  can  be  averted  by  any 
sacrifice  on  my  part. 

While  these  reflections  passed  like  the  stings  of  scorpions 
through  Waverley's  sensorium,  the  worthy  divine  was  startled 
in  a  long  disquisition  on  the  battle  of  Falkirk  by  the  ghastliness 
which  they  communicated  to  his  looks,  and  asked  him  if  he 
was  ill.  Fortunately  the  bride,  all  smirk  and  blush,  had  just 
entered  the  room.  Mrs.  Williams  was  none  of  the  brightest  of 
women,  but  she  was  good-natured,  and  readily  concluding  that 
Edward  had  been  shocked  by  disagreeable  news  in  the  papers, 
interfered  so  judiciously,  that,  without  exciting  suspicion,  she 
drew  off  Mr.  Twigtythe's  attention,  and  engaged  it  until  he 
soon  after  took  his  leave.  Waverley  then  explained  to  his 
friends,  that  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  going  to  London 
•vith  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

One  cause  of  delay,  however,  did  occur,  to  which  Waverley 
had  been  wzry  little  accustomed.  His  purse,  though  well 
stocked  when  he  first  went  to  Tull\--Veo]an,  had  not  been  rein- 
forced since  that  period ;  and  although  his  life  since  had  not 
been  of  a  nature  to  exhaust  it  hastily  (for  he  had  lived  chiefly 
with  his  friends  or  with  the  army),  yet  he  found,  that,  after  set- 
tling with  his  kind  landlord,  he  should  be  too  poor  to  encounter 
the  expense  of  travelling  post.  The  best  course,  therefore, 
seemed  to  be,  to  get  into  the  great  north  road  about  Borough* 
bridge,  and  there  take  a  place  in  the  Northern  Diligence. — a 


WAVER  LEV. 


38» 


nuge  old-fashioned  tub,  drawn  by  three  horses,  which  completed 
the  journey  from  Edinburgh  to  London  (God  willing,  as  the 
advertisement  expressed  it)  in  three  weeks.  Our  hero,  there- 
lore,  took  an  affectionate  farewell  of  his  Cumberland  friends, 
whose  kindness  he  promised  never  to  forget,  and  tacitly  hoped 
one  day  to  acknowledge  by  substantial  proofs  of  gratitude. 
After  some  petty  difhculties,  and  vexatious  delays,  and  aftei 
putting  his  dress  into  a  shape  better  befitting  his  rank,  though 
perfectly  plain  and  simple,  he  accomplished  crossing  the  coun- 
iry,  and  found  himself  in  the  desired  vehicle,  vts-d  vis  to  Mrs. 
Nosebag,  the  lady  of  Lieutenant  Nosebag,  adjutant  and  riding 

master  to  the dragoons, — a  jolly  woman  of  about  fifty 

wearing  a  blue  habit,  faced  with  scarlet,  and  grasping  a  silver- 
mounted  house-whip. 

This  lady  was  one  of  those  active  members  of  society  who 
take  upon  them  /aire  lefrais  de  la  conversation.  She  had  just 
returned  from  the  north,  and  informed  Edward  how  nearly  her 
regiment  had  cut  the  petticoat  people  into  ribbons  at  Falkirk, 
"  only  somehow  there  was  one  of  those  nasty,  awkward  marshes, 
that  they  are  never  without  in  Scotland,  I  think,  and  so  our 
poor  dear  little  regiment  suffered  something,  as  my  Nosebag 
says,  in  that  unsatisfactory  affair.  You,  sir,  have  served  in  the 
dragoons  ?  "  Waverley  was  taken  so  much  at  unawares,  that 
he  acquiesced. 

"  O,  I  knew  it  at  once  ;  I  saw  you  were  military  from  your 
air,  and  I  am  sure  you  could  be  none  of  the  foot-wobblers,  as 
my  Nosebag  calls  them.  What  regiment  pray?"  Here  was 
a  delightful  question.  Waverley,  however,  justly  concluded 
that  this  good  lady  had  the  whole  army-list  by  heart ;  and,  to 
avoid  detection,  by  adhering  to  truth,  answered — "  Gardiner's 
dragoons,  ma'am  ;  but  I  have  retired  some  time." 

"  O  aye,  those  as  won  the  race  at  the  battle  of  Preston,  as 
my  Nosebag  says.     Pray,  sir,  were  you  there  ?  " 

"  I  was  so  unfortimate,  madam,"  he  replied,  "  as  to  witness 
ihat  engagement." 

"  And  that  was  a  misfortune  that  few  of  Gardiner's  stood  to 
witness,  I  believe,  sir — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — I  beg  your  pardon ;  but 
a  soldier's  wife  loves  a  joke." 

"Devil  confound  you  !  "  thought  Waverley  ;  "  what  infernaii 
luck  has  penned  me  up  with  this  inquisitive  hag  !  " 

Fortunately  the  good  lady  did  not  stick  long  to  one  sub' 
ject. 

"We  are  coming  to  Ferrybridge,  now,"  she  said,  "where 
there  was  a  party  of  ours  left  to  support  the  beadles,  and  coiv 


I5« 


fVAyEHLBV. 


Stables,  and  justices,  and  these  sort  of  creatures  that  are  exam 
ining  papers  and  stopping  rebels,  and  all  that."  They  wera 
hardly  in  the  inn  before  she  dragged  Waverley  to  the  window, 
exclaiming,  "Yonder  comes  Corporal  Bridoon,  of  our  poor  deal 
troop  ,  he's  coming  with  the  constable  man  :  Bridoon's  one  o! 

my  lambs,  as  Nosebag  calls  'em.     Come,  Mr. a — a, — pray, 

what's  your  name,  sir  ? ' 

"  Butler,  ma'am,"  said  Waverley,  resolved  rather  to  maka 
free  with  the  name  of  a  former  fellow-officer,  than  run  the 
risk  of  detection  by  inventing  one  not  to  be  found  in  the  regi- 
ment. 

"  O,  you  got  a  troop  lately,  when  that  shabby  fellow,  Waver, 
ley,  went  over  to  the  rebels.  Lord,  I  wish  our  old  cross  Captain 
Crump  would  go  over  to  the  rebels,  that  Nosebag  might  get  the 
troop  ! — Lord,  what  can  Bridoon  be  standing  swinging  on  the 
bridge  for?  I'll  be  hanged  if  he  a'nt  hazy,  as  Nosebag  says. — • 
Come,  sir,  as  you  and  I  belong  to  the  service,  we'll  go  put  the 
rascal  in  mind  of  his  duty." 

Waverley,  with  feelings  more  easily  conceived  than  de» 
scribed,  saw  himself  obliged  to  follow  this  doughty  female  com* 
mander.  The  gallant  trooper  was  as  like  a  lamb  as  a  drunlj 
corporal  of  dragoons,  about  six  feet  high,  with  very  broad 
shoulders,  and  very  thin  legs,  not  to  mention  a  great  scat 
across  his  nose,  could  well  be.  Mrs.  Nosebag  addressed  him 
with  something  which,  if  not  an  oath,  sounded  very  like  one, 
and  commanded  him  to  attend  to  his  duty.     "  You  be  d — d  for 

a ,"  commenced  the  gallant ;  but,  looking  up  in  order  to 

suit  the  action  to  the  words,  and  also  to  enforce  the  epithet 
which  he  meditated,  with  an  adjective  applicable  to  the  party, 
he  recognized  the  speaker,  made  his  military  salam,  and  altered 
his  tone. — "  Lord  love  your  handsome  face.  Madam  Nosebag, 
is  it  you  ?  W'^hy,  if  a  poor  fellovi'  does  happen  to  fire  a  slug  of  a 
morning,  I  am  sure  you  were  never  the  lady  to  bring  him  ta 
harm." 

"  Well,  you  rascallion,  go,  mind  your  duty  ;  this  gentleman 
and  I  belong  to  the  service  ;  but  be  sure  you  look  after  that 
shy  cock  in  the  slouched  hat  that  sits  in  the  corner  of  the  coach. 
I  believe  he's  one  of  the  rebels  in  disguise." 

"  D — n  her  gooseberry  wig  !  "  said  the  corporal,  when  she 
was  out  of  hearing.  "  That  gimlet-eyed  jade — mother  adjutant, 
as  we  call  her — is  a  greater  plague  to  the  regiment  than  provost- 
marshal,  sergeant-major,  and  old  Hubble-de-Shuff  the  colonel 
into  the  bargain. — Come,  Master  Constable,  let's  see  if  thn  shy 
cock,  as  she  calls  him  (who,  by  the  way,  was  a  Quakei  from 


WAVERLEY.  ,-, 

Leeds,  with  whom  Mrs.  Jfosebag  had  had  some  tart  argument 
on  the  legality  of  bearing  arms),  will  stand  godfather  to  a  cup 
of  brandy,  for  your  Yorkshire  ale  is  cold  on  my  stomach." 

The  vivacity  of  this  good  lady,  as  it  helped  Edward  out  of 
this  scrape,  was  like  to  have  drawn  him  into  one  or  two  others. 
In  every  town  where  they  stopped,  she  wished  to  examine  the 
(orps  de  garde,  if  there  was  one,  and  once  very  narrowly  missed 
introducing  Waverley  to  a  recruiting-sergeant  of  his  own  regi- 
ment. Then  she  Captam'd  and  Butler'd  him  till  he  was  almost 
mad  with  vexation  and  anxiety  ;  and  never  was  he  more  re- 
joiced in  his  life  at  the  termination  of  a  journey,  than  when  the 
arrival  of  the  coach  in  London  freed  him  from  the  attentions  of 
Madam  Nosebag. 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-SECOND. 

what's  to  be  done  next? 

It  was  twilight  when  they  arrived  in  town  ;  and  having 
^aken  off  his  companions,  and  walked  through  a  good  many 
Streets  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  being  traced  by  them,  Edward 
took  a  hackney-coach  and  drove  to  Colonel  Talbot's  house,  in 
one  of  the  principal  squares  at  the  west  end  of  the  town.  That 
gentleman,  by  the  death  of  relations,  had  succeeded  since  his 
marriage  to  a  large  fortune,  possessed  considerable  political  in- 
terest, and  lived  in  what  is  called  great  style. 

When  Waverley  knocked  at  his  door,  he  found  it  at  first 
difficult  to  procure  admittance,  but  at  length  was  shown  into  an 
apartment  where  the  Colonel  was  at  table.  Lady  Emily,  whose 
very  beautiful  features  were  still  pallid  from  indisposition,  sate 
opposite  to  him.  The  instant  he  heard  Waverley's  voice,  he 
started  up  and  embraced  him.  "  Frank  Stanley,  my  dear  boy, 
how  d'ye  do? — Emily,  my  love,  this  is  young  Stanley." 

The  blood  started  to  the  Lady's  cheek  as  she  gave  Waver- 
ley a  reception,  in  which  courtesy  was  mingled  with  kindness, 
while  her  trembling  hand  and  faltering  voice  showed  how  much 
she  was  startled  and  discomposed.  Dinner  was  hastily  re- 
placed, and  while  Waverley  was  engaged  in  refreshing  him^ 
»elf,  the  Colonel  proceeded — "  I  wonder  you  have  come  here, 
frank  j  the  doctors  tell  me  the  air  of  Londoa  Is  very  bad  fof 


354 


WAVERLRV. 


your  complaints.  You  should  not  have  risked  it.  But  T  am 
delighted  to  see  you,  and  so  is  Emily,  though  I  fear  we  must 
not  reckon  upon  your  staying  long.  " 

"  Some  particular  business  brought  me  up,"  muttered  Wa« 
verley. 

*'  I  supposed  so,  but  I  sha'n't  allow  you  to  stay  long. — Spon- 
toon  "  (to  an  elderly  military-looking  servant  out  of  livery), 
*'  take  away  these  things,  and  answer  the  bell  yourself,  if  I 
ring.  Don't  let  any  of  the  other  fellows  disturb  us. — My  nephew 
and  I  have  business  to  talk  of." 

When  the  servants  had  retired,  "  In  the  name  of  God, 
Waverley,  what  has  brought  you  here  ?  It  may  be  as  much  as 
your  life  is  worth." 

"  Dear  Mr.  Waverley,"  said  Lady  Emily,  "  to  whom  I  owe 
so  much  more  than  acknowledgments  can  ever  pay,  how  could 
you  be  so  rash  ?  " 

*'  My  father — my  uncle — this  paragraph," — he  handed  the 
paper  to  Colonel  Talbot. 

"I  wish  to  Heaven  these  scoundrels  were  condemned  to 
be  squeezed  to  death  in  their  own  presses,"  said  Talbot.  "  I 
am  told  there  are  not  less  than  a  dozen  of  their  papers  now 
published  in  town,  and  no  wonder  that  they  are  obliged  to 
invent  lies  to  find  sale  for  their  journals.  It  is  true,  however, 
my  dear  Edward,  that  you  have  lost  your  father  ;  but  as  to  this 
flourish  of  his  unpleasant  situation  having  grated  upon  his 
spirits,  and  hurt  his  health — the  truth  is — for  though  it  is  harsh 
to  say  so  now,  yet  it  will  relieve  your  mind  from  the  idea  of 
weighty  responsibility — the  truth  then  is,  that  Mr.  Richard 
Waverley,  through  this  whole  business,  showed  great  want  of 
sensibility,  both  to  your  situation  and  that  of  your  uncle  ;  and 
the  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  told  me,  with  great  glee,  that  as  I 
was  so  good  as  to  take  charge  of  your  interests,  he  had  thought 
it  best  to  patch  up  a  separate  negotiation  for  himself,  and  make 
his  peace  with  Government  through  some  channels  which  former 
connections  left  still  open  to  him." 

"  And  my  uncle — my  dear  uncle  ?  " 

"  Is  in  no  danger  whatever.  It  is  true  (looking  at  the  date 
of  the  paper)  there  was  a  foolish  report  some  time  ago  to  the 
purport  here  quoted,  but  it  is  entirely  false.  Sir  Everard  is 
gone  down  to  Waverley-Honour,  freed  from  all  uneasiness, 
unless  upon  your  own  account.  But  you  are  in  peril  yourself — ■ 
your  name  is  in  every  proclamation — warrants  are  out  to 
apprehend  you.     How  and  when  did  you  come  here  ? " 

Edward  told  his  story  at  length,  suppressing  his  quarrel 


WAVERLEY. 


355 


with  Fergus  ;  for  being  himself  partial  to  Highlanders,  he  did 
not  wish  to  give  any  advantage  to  the  Colonel's  national  pre- 
judice against  them. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  your  friend  Glen's  footboy  you  saw) 
dead  in  Clifton  Moor  ?  " 

"  Quite  positive. " 

"  Then  that  little  limb  of  the  devil  has  cheated  the  gallows, 
for  cut-throat  was  written  in  his  face  ;  though  "  (turning  to 
Lady  Emily)  "  it  was  a  very  handsome  face  too. — But  for  you, 
Edward,  I  wish  you  would  go  down  again  to  Cumberland,  or 
rather  I  wish  you  had  never  stirred  from  thence,  for  there  is 
an  embargo  on  all  the  seaports,  and  a  strict  search  for  the 
adherents  of  the  Pretender  ;  and  the  tongue  of  that  confounded 
woman  will  wag  in  her  head  like  the  clack  of  a  mill,  till  some- 
how or  other  she  will  detect  Captain  Butler  to  be  a  feigned 
personage." 

"  Do  you  know  anything,"  asked  Waverley,  "  of  my  felloW' 
traveller  ? " 

"  Her  husband  was  my  sergeant-major  for  six  years  ;  she 
was  a  buxom  widow,  with  a  little  money — he  married  her — was 
steady,  and  got  on  by  being  a  good  drill.  I  must  send  Spon-. 
toon  to  see  what  she  is  about ;  he  will  find  her  out  among  the 
old  regimental  connections.  To-morrow  you  must  be  indis- 
posed, and  keep  your  room  from  fatigue.  Lady  Emily  is  to  be 
your  nurse,  and  Sioitoon  and  I  your  attendants.  You  bear 
the  name  of  a  near  relation  of  mine,  whom  none  of  my  present 
people  ever  saw,  except  Spontoon  :  so  there  will  be  no  im- 
mediate danger.  So  pray  feel  your  head  ache  and  your  eyes 
grow  heavy  as  soon  as  possible,  that  you  may  be  put  upon  the 
sick  list ;  and  Emily,  do  you  order  an  apartment  for  Frank 
Stanley,  with  all  ihe  attention  which  an  invalid  may  require." 

In  the  morning  the  Colonel  visited  his  guest.—"  Now," 
said  he,  "  I  have  some  good  news  for  you.  Your  reputation 
as  a  gentleman  and  officer  is  effectually  cleared  of  neglect  of 
duty,  and  accession  to  the  mutiny  in  Gardiner's  regiment.  I 
have  had  a  correspondence  on  this  subject  with  a  very  zealoug 
friend  of  yours,  your  Scottish  parson,  Morton  ;  his  first  lettef 
was  addressed  to  Sir  Everard  ;  but  I  relieved  the  good  Baronel 
of  the  trouble  of  answering  it.  V-^u  must  Icnow,  that  youi 
freebooting  acquaintance,  Donald  of  the  Cave,  has  at  length 
fallen  into  the  hand  of  the  Philistines,  He  was  driving  off  the 
cattle  of  a  certain  proprietor,  called  Killiau — something  o» 
»ther " 

*'  Killancureit  ?  " 


156  WAVER  LEY. 

"The  same.  Now,  the  gentleman  being,  it  seems,  a  greai 
farmer,  and  having  a  special  value  for  his  breed  of  cattle—* 
heir.;;-,  moreover,  rather  of  a  timid  disposition,  had  got  a  partj 
of  soldiers  to  protect  his  property.  So  Donald  ran  his  head 
unawares  into  the  lion's  mouth,  and  was  defeated  and  made 
prisoner.  Being  ordered  for  execution,  his  conscience  was 
assailed  on  the  one  hand  by  a  Catholic  priest, — on  the  othei 
by  your  friend  Morton.  He  repulsed  the  Catholic  chiefly  on 
account  of  the  doctrine  of  extreme  unction,  which  this  eco- 
nomical gentleman  considered  as  an  excessive  waste  of  oil.  So 
his  conversion  from  a  state  of  impenitence  fell  to  Mr.  Morion's 
share,  who,  I  dare  say,  acquitted  himself  excellently,  though,  I 
suppose,  Donald  made  but  a  queer  kind  of  Christian  after  all. 
He  confessed,  however,  before  a  magistrate — one  Major  Mel- 
ville, who  seems  to  have  been  a  correct,  friendly  sort  of  per- 
son— his  full  intrigue  with  Houghton,  explaining  particularly 
how  it  was  carried  on,  and  fully  acquitting  you  of  the  least  ac- 
cession to  it.  He  also  mentioned  his  rescuing  you  from  the 
hands  of  the  volunteer  officer,  and  sending  you,  by  orders  of 
^he  Pret — Chevalier,  I  mean — as  a  prisoner  to  Doune,  from 
Vfhence  he  understood  you  were  carried  prisoner  to  Edinburgh. 
These  are  particulars  which  cannot  but  tell  in  your  favor.  He 
hinted  that  he  had  been  employed  to  deliver  and  protect  you, 
and  rewarded  for  doing  so  ;  but  he  would  not  confess  by  whom, 
alleging,  that,  though  he  would  not  have  minded  breaking  any 
ordinary  oath  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  Mr.  Morton,  to  whose 
pious  admonitions  he  owed  so  much,  yet  in  the  present  case 
he  had  been  sworn  to  silence  upon  the  pledge  of  his  dirk," 
which,  it  seems,  constituted,  in  his  opinion,  an  inviolable  ob- 
ligation. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  hanged  at  Stirling  after  the  rebels  raised  the 
siege,  with  his  lieutenant,  and  four  plaids  besides  ;  he,  having 
the  advantage  of  a  gallows  more  lofty  than  his  friends." 

"  Well,  I  have  little  cause  either  to  regret  or  rejoice  at  his 
death  ;  and  yet  he  has  done  me  both  good  and  harm  to  a  very 
considerable  extent." 

"  His  confession,  at  least,  will  serve  you  materially,  since  it 
wipes  from  your  character  all  those  suspicions  which  gave  the 
accusation  against  you  a  complexion  of  a  nature  different  from 
that  with  which  so  many  unfortunate  gentlemen,  now  or  lately 
in  arms  against  the  Government,  may  be  justly  charged.  Their 
treason — I  must  give  it  its  name,  though  you  participate  in  its 
guilt — is  an  action  arising  from  mistaken  virtue,  and  therefore 


WAVERLEY. 


ZS1 


cannot  be  classed  as  a  disgrace,  though  it  be  doubtless  highly 
criminal.  Where  the  guilty  are  so  numerous,  clemency  must 
be  extended  to  far  the  greater  number ;  and  I  have  little  doubt 
of  procuring  a  remission  for  you,  provided  we  can  keep  you 
Dut  of  the  claws  of  justice  till  she  has  selected  and  gorged 
upon  her  victims  ;  for  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  it  will  be  ac- 
cording to  the  vulgar  proverb,  '  First  come,  first  served.' 
Besides,  Government  are  desirous  at  present  to  intimidate  the 
English  Jacobites,  among  whom  they  can  find  few  examples  for 
punishment.  This  is  a  vindictive  and  timid  feeling  which  will 
soon  wear  off,  for,  of  all  nations,  the  English  are  least  blood- 
thirsty by  nature.  But  it  exists  at  present,  and  you  must  there* 
fore  be  kept  out  of  the  way  in  the  mean  time." 

Now  entered  Spontoon  with  an  anxious  countenance.  By 
his  regimental  acquaintances  he  had  traced  out  Madam  Nose- 
bag, and  found  her  full  of  ire,  fuss,  and  fidget,  at  discovery  of 
an  impostor,  who  had  travelled  from  the  north  with  her  under 
the  assumed  name  of  Captain  Butler  of  Gardiner's  dragoons. 
She  ivas  going  to  lodge  an  information  on  the  subject,  to  have 
him  sought  for  as  an  emissary  of  the  Pretender  ;  but  Spontoon 
(an  old  soldier),  while  he  pretended  to  approve,  contrived  to 
make  her  delay  her  intention.  No  time,  however,  was  to  be 
lost  :  the  accuracy  of  this  good  dame's  description  might  prob- 
ably lead  to  the  discovery  that  Waverley  was  the  pretended 
Captain  Butler ;  an  identification  fraught  with  danger  to  Ed- 
ward, perhaps  to  his  uncle,  and  even  to  Colonel  Talbet.  Which 
way  to  direct  his  course  was  now,  therefore,  the  question. 

"To  Scotland,"  said  Waverley. 

"  To  Scotland  !  "  said  the  Colonel ;  "with  what  purpose  f — 
not  to  engage  again  with  the  rebels  I  hope  .'' " 

"  No — I  considered  my  campaign  ended,  when,  after  all  my 
efforts,  I  could  not  rejoin  them  ;  and  now,  by  all  accounts, 
they  are  gone  to  make  a  winter  campaign  in  the  Highlands, 
where  such  adherents  as  I  am  would  rather  be  burdensome 
than  useful.  Indeed  it  seems  likely  that  they  only  prolong 
the  war  to  place  the  Chevalier's  person  out  of  danger,  and  then 
to  make  some  terms  for  themselves.  To  burden  them  with  my 
presence  would  merely  add  another  party,  whom  they  would 
not  give  up,  and  could  not  defend.  I  understand  they  left 
almost  all  their  English  adherents  in  garrison  at  Carlisle,  for 
that  very  reason : — and  on  a  more  general  view.  Colonel,  to 
confess  the  truth,  though  it  may  lower  me  in  your  opinion,  I 
am  heartily  tired  of  the  trade  of  war,  and  am,  as  Fletcher's 
Humorous  Ijeutenant  says,  '  even  as  weary  of  this  fight' 
ing' '* 


_^58  WAVERIEY. 

"  Fighting  ?  pooh,  \vhat  ha\e  you  seen  but  a  skirmish  ol 
two  ? — Ah  !  if  you  saw  war  on  tlie  grand  scale — sixty  or  a 
hundred  ihousand  men  in  the  field  on  each  side !  " 

"  I  am  not  at  all  curious,  Colonel. — '  Enough,'  says  out 
homely  proverb,  *  is  as  good  as  a  feast.'  The  plumed  troops 
and  the  big  war  used  to  enchant  me  in  poetry ;  but  the  night 
marches,  vigils,  couched  under  the  wintry  sky,  and  such 
accompaniments  of  the  glorious  trade,  are  not  at  all  to  my 
taste  in  practice  : — then  for  dry  blows,  I  had  my  fill  of  fighting 
at  Clifton,  where  I  escaped  by  a  hair's-breadth half-a-dozen 
times  ;  and  you,  I  should  think "     He  stopped. 

"  Had  enough  of  it  at  Preston  ?  you  mean  to  say,"  answered 
the  Colonel  laughing ;  but,  '  'tis  my  vocation,  Hal.'  " 

"  It  is  not  mine,  though,"  said  Waverley  ;  "  and  having 
honorably  got  rid  of  the  sword,  which  I  drew  only  as  a  volun- 
teer, I  am  quite  satisfied  with  my  military  experience,  and  shall 
be  in  no  hurry  to  take  it  up  again." 

"  I  am  ver}^  glad  you  are  of  that  mind — but  then,  what 
would  you  do  in  the  North  1  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  there  are  some  seaports  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  Scotland  still  in  the  hands  of  the  Chevalier's  friends  ; 
should  I  gain  any  of  them,  I  can  easily  embark  for  the  Con- 
tinent." 

"  Good — your  second  reason  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  speak  the  very  truth,  there  is  a  person  in  Scotland 
upon  whom  I  now  find  my  happiness  depends  more  than  I  was 
always  aware,  and  about  whose  situation  I  am  ver)'  anxious." 

"  Then  Emily  was  right,  and  there  is  a  love  affair  in  the 
case  after  all  ? — And  which  of  these  two  pretty  Scotchwomen, 
whom  you  insisted  upon  my  admiring,  is  the  distinguished 
fair? — not  Miss  Glen 1  hope." 

"  No." 

"  Ah,  pass  for  the  other  :  simplicity  may  be  improved,  but 
pride  and  conceit  never.  Well,  I  don't  discourage  you ;  I 
think  it  will  please  Sir  Everard,  from  what  he  said  when  I 
jested  with  him  about  it ;  only  I  hope  that  intolerable  papa, 
■with  his  brogue,  and  his  snuff,  and  his  Latin,  and  his  insufter- 
able  long  stories  about  the  Duke  of  Berwick,  will  find  it  neces- 
sary hereafter,  to  be  an  inhabitant  of  foreign  parts.  But  as  to 
the  daughter,  though  I  think  you  might  find  as  fitting  a  match 
in  England,  yet  if  your  heart  be  really  set  upon  this  Scotch 
Rosebud,  why  the  Baronet  has  a  great  opinion  of  her  father 
and  of  his  family,  and  he  wishes  much  to  see  you  married  and 
settled,  both  for  your  own  sake  and  for  that  of  the  three  er- 


y/AVERLEY.  359 

toines  passant,  which  may  otherwise  pass  away  altogether.  But 
I  will  bring  you  his  mind  fully  upon  the  subject,  since  you  are 
debarred  correspondence  for  the  present,  for  I  think  you  will 
not  be  long  in  Scotland  before  me." 

"  Indeed  !  and  what  can  induce  you  to  think  of  returning 
to  Scotland  ?  No  relentless  longings  towards  the  land  of 
mountains  and  floods  I  am  afraid." 

"  None,  on  my  word ;  but  Emily's  health  is  now,  thank 
God,  re-established,  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  little  hopes 
of  concluding  the  business  which  I  have  at  present  most  at 
heart,  until  I  can  have  a  personal  interview  with  his  Royal 
Highness  the  Commander-in-Chief;  for,  as  Fluellen  says,  'The 
duke  doth  love  me  well,  and  I  thank  heaven,  I  have  deserved 
some  love  at  his  hands.'  I  am  now  going  out  for  an  hour  or 
two  to  arrange  matters  for  your  departure ;  your  liberty  ex- 
tends to  the  next  room.  Lady  Emily's  parlor,  where  you  will 
find  her  when  you  are  disposed  for  music,  reading,  or  conver- 
sation. We  have  taken  measures  to  exclude  all  servants  but 
Spontoon,  who  is  as  true  as  steel." 

In  about  two  hours  Colonel  Talbot  returned,  and  found  his 
young  friend  conversing  with  his  lady  ;  she  pleased  with  his 
manners  and  information,  and  he  delighted  at  being  restored, 
though  but  for  a  moment,  to  the  society  of  his  own  rank,  from 
which  he  had  been  for  some  time  excluded, 

"And  now,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  hear  my  arrangements,  for 
there  is  little  time;  to  lose.  This  youngster,  Edward  Waverley, 
alias  Williams,  alias  Captain  Butler,  must  continue  to  pass  by 
his  fourth  alias  of  Francis  Stanley,  my  nephew  :  he  shall  set 
out  to-morrow  for  the  North,  and  the  chariot  shall  take  him  the 
first  two  stages.  Spontoon  shall  then  attend  him  ;  and  they 
shall  ride  post  as  far  as  Huntingdon  ;  and  the  presence  of 
Spontoon,  well  known  on  the  road  as  my  servant,  will  check  all 
disposition  to  inquiry.  At  Huntingdon  you  will  meet  the  real 
Frank  Stanley.  He  is  studying  at  Cambridge  ;  but,  a  little 
while  ago,  doubtful  if  Emily's  health  would  permit  me  to  go 
down  to  the  North  myself,  I  procured  him  a  passport  from  the 
Secretary  of  State's  office  to  go  in  my  stead.  As  he  went 
chiefly  to  look  after  you,  his  journey  is  now  unnecessary.  He 
knows  your  story  ;  you  will  dine  together  at  Huntingdon  ;  and 
perhaps  your  wise  heads  may  hit  upon  some  plan  for  removing 
or  diminishing  the  danger  of  your  farther  progress  northward. 
And  now  (taking  out  a  morocco  case),  let  me  put  you  in  fundi 
for  the  campaign." 

"  I  am  ashamed,  my  dear  Colonel, -" 


360  tVAVERLEY. 

"  Nay,"  said  Colonel  Talbot,  "  you  should  command  mj 
purse  in  any  event ;  but  this  money  is  your  own.  Your  father, 
considering  the  chance  of  your  being  attainted,  left  me  his 
trustee  for  your  advantage.  So  that  you  are  worth  above 
;^i5,ooo,  besides  Brerewood  Lodge — a  very  independent  person, 
1  promise  you.  There  are  bills  here  for  ^200;  any  larger 
sum  }'ou  may  have,  or  credit  abroad,  as  soon  as  your  motions 
fequire  it." 

The  first  use  which  occurred  to  Waverley  of  his  newly 
acquired  wealth,  was  to  write  to  honest  Farmer  Jopson,  request 
ing  his  acceptance  of  a  silver  tankard  on  the  part  of  his  friend 
Williams,  who  had  not  forgotten  the  night  of  the  eighteenth 
December  last.  He  begged  him  at  the  same  time  carefully  to 
preserve  for  him  his  Highland  garb  and  acoutrements,  par- 
ticularly the  arms — curious  in  themselves,  and  to  which  the 
friendship  of  the  donors  gave  additional  value.  Lady  Emily  un- 
dertook to  find  some  suitable  token  of  remembrance,  likely  to 
flatter  the  vanity  and  please  the  taste  of  Mrs.  Williams  ;  and 
the  Colonel,  who  was  a  kind  of  farmer,  promised  to  send  the 
Ullswater  patriarch  an  excellent  team  of  horses  for  cart  and 
plough. 

One  happy  day  Waverley  spent  in  London  ;  and,  travelling 
m  the  manner  projected,  he  met  with  Frank  Stanley  at  Hunt- 
ingdon.    The  two  young  men  were  acquainted  in  a  minute. 

"  I  can  read  my  uncle's  riddle,"  said  Stanley.  "  The  cau- 
tious old  soldier  did  not  care  to  hint  to  me  that  I  might  hand 
over  to  you  this  passport,  which  I  have  no  occasion  for ;  but 
if  it  should  afterwards  come  out  as  the  rattle-pated  trick  of  a 
young  Cantab,  ce/a  iie  tire  a  rien.  You  are  therefore  to  be 
Francis  Stanley,  with  this  passport."  This  proposal  appeared 
in  effect  to  alleviate  a  great  part  of  the  difficulties  which  Edward 
must  otherwise  have  encountered  at  every  turn  ;  and  accor- 
dingly he  scrupled  not  to  avail  himself  of  it,  the  more  especially 
as  he  had  discarded  all  political  purposes  from  his  present 
journey,  and  could  not  be  accused  of  furthering  machinations 
against  the  Government  while  travelling  under  protection  of 
the  Secretar}''s  passport. 

The  day  passed  merrily  away.  The  young  student  was  ia 
quisitive  about  Waverley's  campaigns,  and  the  manners  of  the 
Highlands ;  and  Edward  was  obliged  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  by 
whistling  a  pibroch,  dancing  a  strathspey,  and  singing  a  High- 
land  song.  The  next  morning  Stanley  rode  a  stage  northward 
with  his  new  friend,  and  parted  from  him  with  great  reluctance, 
upon  the  remonstrances  of  Spontoon,  who,  accustomed  to 
submit  to  discipline,  was  rigid  in  eoforcing  it. 


WAVERLEY.  361 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-THIRD. 

DESOLATION. 

Waverley  riding  post,  as  was  the  usual  fashion  of  the 
period,  without  any  adventure  save  one  or  two  queries,  which 
the  talisman  of  his  passport  sufficiently  answered,  reached  the 
borders  of  Scotland.  Here  he  heard  the  tidings  of  the  decisive 
battle  of  Culloden.  It  was  no  more  than  he  had  long  expected, 
though  the  success  at  Falkirk  had  thrown  a  faint  and  setting 
gleam  over  the  arms  of  the  Chevalier.  Yet  it  came  upon  him 
like  a  shock,  by  which  he  was  for  a  time  altogether  unmannsd. 
The  generous,  the  courteous,  the  noble-minded  Adventurer,  was 
then  a  fugitive,  with  a  price  upon  his  head  ;  his  adherents  so 
brave,  so  enthusiastic,  so  faithful,  were  dead,  imprisoned,  or  ex- 
iled. Where,  now,  was  the  exalted  and  high-souled  Fergus,  if, 
indeed,  he  had  survived  the  night  at  Clifton  ? — where  the  pure- 
hearted  and  primitive  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  whose  foibles 
seemed  foils  to  set  off  the  disinterestedness  of  his  disposition, 
the  genuine  goodness  of  his  heart,  and  his  unshaken  courage  ? 
Those  who  clung  for  support  to  these  fallen  columns,  Rose  and 
Flora, — where  were  they  to  be  sought,  and  in  what  distress  must 
not  the  loss  of  their  natural  protectors  have  involved  them  .-*  Of 
Flora  he  thought  with  the  regard  of  a  brother  for  a  sister — of 
Rose,  with  a  sensation  yet  more  deep  and  tender.  It  might  be 
still  his  fate  to  supply  the  want  of  those  guardians  they  had  lost. 
Agitated  by  these  thoughts,  he  precipitated  his  journey. 

When  he  arrived  in  Edinburgh,  where  his  inquiries  must 
necessarily  commence,  he  felt  the  full  difficulty  of  his  situation. 
Many  inhabitants  of  that  city  had  seen  and  known  him  as 
Edward  Waverley  ;  how,  then,  could  he  avail  himself  of  a  pass- 
port as  Francis  Stanley  ?  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  avoid  all 
company,  and  to  move  northward  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
was,  however,  obliged  to  wait  a  day  or  two  in  expectation 
of  a  letter  from  Colonel  Talbot,  and  he  was  also  to  leave  his 
own  address,  under  his  feigned  character,  at  a  place  agreed 
upon.  With  this  latter  purpose  he  sallied  out  in  the  dusk 
through  the  well-known  streets,  carefully  shunning  observation, 
— but  in  vain  ;  one  of  the  first  persons  whom  he  met  at  once 
recognized  him.  It  was  Mrs.  Flockhart^  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's 
good-humored  landlady. 


S6s 


WAVE  RLE  Y. 


*'  Gude  guide  us,  Mr.  Waverley,  is  this  you  ? — na,  ye  needna 
be  feared  for  me — I  wad  betray  nae  gentleman  in  your  circum- 
stances. Eh,  lack-a-day  !  lack-a-day  !  here's  a  change  o'  mar- 
kets  !  how  merry  Colonel  Mac-Ivor  and  you  used  to  be  in  our 
house  ?  "  And  the  good-natured  widow  shed  a  few  natural 
tears.  As  there  was  no  resisting  her  claim  of  acquaintance, 
Waverley  acknowledged  it  with  a  good  grace,  as  well  as  the 
danger  of  his  own  situation.  "  As  it's  near  the  darkening,  sir, 
wad  ye  just  step  in  by  to  our  house,  and  tak  a  dish  o'  tea  1  and 
I  am  sure,  if  ye  like  to  sleep  in  the  little  room,  I  wad  tak  care 
ye  are  no  disturbed,  and  naebody  wad  ken  ye,  for  Kate  and 
Matty,  the  limmers,  gaed  aff  wi'  twa  o'  Hawley's  dragoons,  and 
I  hae  two  new  queans  instead  o'  them." 

Waverley  accepted  her  invitation,  and  engaged  her  lodging 
for  a  night  or  two,  satisfied  he  should  be  safer  in  the  house  of 
this  simple  creature  than  anywhere  else.  When  he  entered  the 
parlor,  his  heart  swelled  to  see  Fergus's  bonnet,  with  the  white 
cockade,  hanging  beside  the  little  mirror. 

"  Ay,"  said  Mrs.  Flockhart,  sighing,  as  she  observed  the 
direction  of  his  eyes,  "the  poor  Colonel  bought  a  new  ane  just 
the  day  before  they  marched,  and  I  winna  let  them  tak  that 
ane  doon,  but  just  to  brush  it  ilka  day  mysell ;  and  whiles  J 
look  at  it  till  I  just  think  I  hear  him  cry  to  Galium  to  bring  him 
his  bonnet,  as  he  used  to  do  when  he  was  ganging  out. — It's 
unco  silly — the  neighbors  ca'  me  a  Jacobite — but  they  may  say 
their  say — I  am  sure  it's  no  for  that — but  he  was  as  kind-hearted 
a  gentleman  as  ever  lived,  and  as  weel-far"d  too.  Oh,  d'ye  ken, 
sir,  when  he  is  to  suffer  ?  " 

"  Suffer  !     Good  Heaven  ! — Why,  where  is  he  !  " 

"  Eh,  Lord's  sake  !  d'ye  no  ken  .''  The  poor  Ilielandbody, 
Dugald  Mahoney,  cam  here  a  while  syne,  wi'  ane  o'  his  arms 
cuttit  off,  and  a  sair  clour  in  the  head — ye  11  mind  Dugald  ?  he 
carried  aye  an  axe  on  his  shoutiier — and  he  cam  here  just  beg- 
ging, as  I  may  say,  for  something  to  eat.  Aweel,  he  tauld  us 
the  Chief,  as  they  ca'd  him  (but  I  aye  ca'  him  the  Colonel) 
and  Ensign  Maccombich,  that  ye  mind  weel,  were  ta'en  some- 
where beside  the  English  border,  when  it  was  sae  dark  that  his 
folk  never  missed  him  till  it  was  ower  late,  and  they  were  like 
to  gang  clean  daft.  And  he  said  that  little^  Galium  Beg  (he 
was  a  bauld  mischievous  callant  that),  and  your  honor,  were 
killed  the  same  night  in  the  tuilzie,  and  mony  mae  braw  men. 
But  he  grat  when  he  spak  o'  the  Colonel,  ye  never  saw  the  like. 
And  now  the  word  gangs,  the  Colonel  is  to  be  tried,  and  to 
suffer  wi'  them  that  were  ta'en  at  Carlisle." 


Vli^AVBRLEY.  363 

**  And  his  sister?  " 

"  Ay,  that  they  ca'd  the  Lady  Flora — weel,  she's  away  up 
to  CarUsle  to  hhn,  and  lives  \vi'  some  grand  Papist  lady  there^ 
abouts,  to  be  near  him." 

"  And,"  said  Edward,'"the  other  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Whilk  other  ?     I  ken  only  of  ae  sister  the  Colonel  had.** 

"  I  mean  Miss  Bradwardine,"  said  Edward. 

"  Ou  a)^,  the  laird's  daughter,"  said  his  landlady.  *'  She  wa3 
a  very  bonny  lassie,  poor  thing,  but  far  shyer  than  Lady  Flora." 

"  Where  is  she,  for  God's  sake  ?  " 

*'  Ou,  wha  kens  where  ony  o'  them  is  now  "i  Puir  things, 
they're  sair  ta'en  doun  for  their  white  cockade  and  their  white 
roses  ;  but  she  gaed  north  to  her  father's  in  Perthshire,  when 
the  government  troops  cam  back  to  Edinbro'.  There  was  some 
pretty  men  amangthem,  and  ane  Major  Whacker  was  quartered 
on  me,  a  very  ceevil  gentleman, — but  O,  Mr.  Waverley,  he  was 
naething  sae  weel-far'd  as  the  poor  Colonel." 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  become  of  Miss  Bradwardine's 
father  ?  " 

"  The  auld  laird  ? — na,  naebody  kens  that ,  but  they  say  he 
fought  very  hard  in  that  bluidy  battle  at  Inverness  ;  and  Deacon 
Clank,  the  white-iron  smith,  says,  that  the  Government  folk 
are  sair  agane  him  for  having  been  out  twice  ;  and  troth  he 
might  hae  ta'en  warning, — but  there's  nae  fule  like  an  auld  fule 
— the  poor  Colonel  was  only  out  ance." 

Such  conversation  contained  almost  all  the  good-natured 
widow  knew  of  the  fate  of  her  late  lodgers  and  acquaintances  j 
but  it  was  enough  to  determine  Edward  at  all  hazards  to  pro- 
ceed instantly  to  TuUy-Veolan,  where  he  concluded  he  should 
see,  or  at  least  hear,  something  of  Rose.  He  therefore  left  a 
letter  for  Colonel  Talbot  at  the  place  agreed  upon,  signed  by 
his  assumed  name,  and  giving  for  his  address  the  post-town 
next  to  the  Baron's  residence. 

From  Edinburgh  to  Perth  he  took  post-horses,  resolving  to 
make  the  rest  of  his  journey  on  foot — a  mode  of  travelling  to 
which  he  was  partial,  and  which  had  the  advantage  of  permit- 
ting a  deviation  from  the  road  when  he  saw  parties  of  military 
at  a  distance.  His  campaign  had  considerably  strengthened 
his  constitution,  and  improved  his  habits  of  enduring  fatigue. 
His  baggage  he  sent  before  him  as  opportunity  occurred. 

As  he  advanced  northward,  the  traces  of  war  became  vis- 
ible. Broken  carriages,  dead  horses,  unroofed  cottages,  trees 
felled  for  palisades,  and  bridges  destroyed,  or  only  partially  re- 
paired,— all  indicated  the  movements  of  hostile  armies.     In 


364  WAVERLEY, 

those  places  where  the  gentry  were  attached  to  the  Stuart  caus€^ 
their  houses  seemed  dismantled  or  deserted,  the  usual  course 
of  what  may  be  called  ornamental  labor  was  totally  interrupted, 
and  the  inhabitants  were  seen  gliding  about,  with  fear,  sorrow, 
and  dejection  on  their  faces. 

It  was  evening  when  Ivj  approached  the  village  of  Tully« 
Veolan,  with  feelings  and  sentiments — how  different  from  those 
which  attended  his  first  entrance  !  Then,  life  was  so  new  to 
him,  that  a  dull  or  disagreeable  day  was  one  of  the  greatest 
misfortunes  which  his  imagination  anticipated,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  his  time  ought  only  to  be  consecrated  to  elegant  or 
amusing  study,  and  relieved  by  social  or  youthful  frolic.  Now, 
how  changed  !  how  saddened,  yet  how  elevated  was  his  char- 
acter, within  the  course  of  a  very  few  months  !  Danger  and 
misfortune  are  rapid,  though  severe  teachers.  "A  sadder  and 
a  wiser  man,"  he  felt,  in  internal  confidence  and  mental  dignity, 
a  compensation  for  the  gay  dreams  which,  in  his  case,  experi- 
ence had  so  rapidly  dissolved. 

As  he  approached  the  village,  he  saw,  with  surprise  and 
anxiety,  that  a  party  of  soldiers  were  quartered  near  it,  and 
what  was  worse,  that  they  seemed  stationary  there.  This  he 
conjectured  from  a  few  tents  which  he  beheld  glimmering  upoa 
what  was  called  the  Common  Moor.  To  avoid  the  risk  of  be- 
ing stopped  and  questioned  in  a  place  where  he  was  so  likely 
to  be  recognized,  he  made  a  large  circuit,  altogether  avoiding 
the  hamlet,  and  approaching  the  upper  gate  of  the  avenue  by 
a  by-path  well  known  to  him.  A  single  glance  announced  that 
great  changes  had  taken  place.  One  half  of  the  gate,  entirely 
destroyed  and  split  up  for  firewood,  lay  in  piles,  ready  to  be 
taken  away  ;  the  other  swung  uselessly  about  upon  its  loosened 
hinges.  The  battlements  above  the  gate  were  broken  and 
thrown  down,  and  the  carved  Bears,  which  were  said  to  have 
done  sentinel's  duty  upon  the  top  for  centuries,  now,  hurled 
from  their  posts,  lay  among  tlie  rubbish.  The  avenue  was 
cruelly  wasted.  Several  large  trees  were  felled  and  left  lying 
across  the  path  ;  and  the  cattle  of  the  villagers,  and  the  more 
rude  hoofs  of  dragoon  horses,  had  poached  into  black  mud 
the  verdant  turf  which  Waverley  had  so  much  admired. 

Upon  entering  the  court-yard,  Edward  saw  the  fears  real- 
ized which  these  circumstances  had  excited.  The  place  had 
been  sacked  by  the  King's  troops,  who,  in  wanton  mischief, 
had  even  attempted  to  bum  it ;  and  though  the  thickness  of 
the  walls  had  resisted  the  fire,  unless  to  a  partial  extent,  the 
Stables  and  out-houses  were  totally  consumed.    The  towers  and 


tVAVERLEY  363 

pinnacles  of  the  main  building  were  scorched  and  blackened  j 
the  pavement  of  the  court  broken  and  shattered  ;  the  doors 
torn  down  entirely,  or  hanging  by  a  single  hinge  ;  the  windows 
dashed  in  and  demolished  ;  and  the  court  strewed  with  articles 
of  furniture  broken  into  fragments.  The  accessaries  of  an- 
cient distinction,  to  which  the  Baron,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart, 
tad  attached  so  much  importance  and  veneration,  were  treated 
mth  peculiar  contumely.  The  fountain  was  demolished,  and 
the  spring  which  had  supplied  it  now  flooded  the  court-yard. 
The  stone  basin  seemed  to  be  destined  for  a  drink-trough  for 
cattle,  from  the  manner  in  which  it  was  arranged  upon  the 
ground.  The  whole  tribe  of  Bears,  large  and  small,  had  ex- 
perienced as  little  favor  as  those  at  the  head  of  the  avenue  ; 
and  one  or  two  of  the  family  pictures,  which  seemed  to  have 
served  as  targets  for  the  soldiers,  lay  on  the  ground  in  tatters. 
With  an  aching  heart,  as  may  well  be  imagined,  Edward  viewed 
this  wreck  of  a  mansion  so  respected.  But  his  anxiety  to  learn 
the  fate  of  the  proprietors,  and  his  fears  as  to  what  that  fate  might 
be,  increased  with  every  step.  When  he  entered  upon  the  ter- 
race new  scenes  of  desolation  were  visible.  The  balustrade 
Was  broken  down,  the  walls  destroyed,  the  borders  overgrown 
with  weeds,  and  the  fruit-trees  cut  down  or  grubbed  up.  In 
one  compartment  of  this  old-fashioned  garden  were  two  im- 
mense horse-chestnut  trees,  of  whose  size  the  Baron  was  par- 
ticularly vain  :  too  lazy,  perhaps,  to  cut  them  down,  the  spoilers, 
with  malevolent  ingenuity,  had  mined  them,  and  placed  a  quantity 
of  gunpowder  in  the  cavity.  One  had  been  shivered  to  pieces 
by  the  explosion,  and  the  fragments  lay  scattered  around,  en- 
cumbering the  ground  it  had  so  long  shadowed.  The  other 
mine  had  been  more  partial  in  its  effect.  About  one  fourth  of 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  was  torn  from  the  mass,  which,  mutilated 
and  defaced  on  the  one  side,  still  spread  on  the  other  its  ample 
and  undiminished  boughs.*^ 

Amid  these  general  marks  of  ravage,  there  were  some  which 
more  particularly  addressed  the  feelings  of  Waverley.  View- 
ing the  front  of  the  building,  thus  wasted  and  defaced,  his  eyes 
naturally  sought  the  little  balcony  which  more  properly  belonged 
to  Rose's  apartment — her  troisihne,  or  rather  dm/idfme  eiage. 
It  was  easily  discovered,  for  beneath  it  lay  the  stage-flowers 
and  shrubs  with  which  it  was  her  pride  to  decorate  it,  and  which 
had  been  hurled  from  the  bartizan  :  several  of  her  books  were 
mingled  with  broken  flower-pots  and  other  remnants.  Among 
these,  Waverley  distinguished  one  of  his  own,  a  small  copy  of 
Ariosto,  and  gathered  it  as  a  treasure,  though  wasted  by  the 
wind  and  rain. 


^66  WAVER  LEY. 

While  plunged  in  the  sad  reflections  which  the  scene  ex 
cited,  he  was  looking  around  for  some  one  who  might  explain 
Bie  fate  of  the  inhabitants,  he  heard  a  voice  from  the  interioj 
of  the  building  singing,  in  well-remembered  accents,  an  oU 
Scottish  sang : 

They  came  upon  us  in  the  night, 

And  brake  my  bower  and  slew  my  knight : 

My  servants  a'  for  life  did  flee, 

And  left  us  in  extremitie. 

They  slew  my  knight,  to  me  sae  dear  ; 
They  slew  my  knight,  and  drave  his  gear ;  ^ 
The  moon  may  set,  the  sun  may  rise. 
But  a  deadly  sleep  has  closed  his  eyes. 

"Alas ! "  thought  Edward,  "  is  it  thou  ?  Poor  helpless  be- 
ing, art  thou  alone  left,  to  gibber  and  moan,  and  fill  with  thy 
wild  and  unconnected  scraps  of  minstrelsy  the  halls  that  pro- 
tected thee  ?  " — He  then  called,  first  low,  and  then  louder, 
"  Davie— Davie  Gellatley  !  " 

The  poor  simpleton  showed  himself  from  the  ruins  of  a 
sort  of  green-house,  that  once  terminated  what  was  called  the 
Terrace-walk,  but  at  first  sight  of  a  stranger  retreated  as  if  in 
terror.  Waverley,  remembering  his  habits,  began  to  whistle  a 
tune  to  which  he  was  partial,  which  Davie  had  expressed  great 
pleasure  in  listening  to,  and  had  picked  up  from  him  by  the 
ear.  Our  hero's  minstrelsy  no  more  equalled  that  of  Blondel, 
fiian  poor  Davie  resembled  Coeur  de  Lion  -,  but  the  melody  had 
the  same  effect  of  producing  recognition.  Davie  again  stole 
from  his  lurking-place,  but  timidly,  while  Waverley,  afraid  of 
frightening  him,  stood  making  the  most  encouraging  signals  he 
could  devise. — "  It's  his  ghaist,"  muttered  Davie  ;  yet,  coming 
nearer,  he  seemed  to  acknowledge  his  living  acquaintance.  The 
poor  fool  himself  appeared  the  ghost  of  what  he  had  been. 
The  peculiar  dress  in  which  he  had  been  attired  in  better  days, 
showed  only  miserable  rags  of  its  whimsical  finery,  the  lack  of 
which  was  oddly  supplied  by  the  remnants  of  tapestried  hang- 
ings, wandow-curtains,  and  shreds  of  pictures,  with  which  he 
had  bedizened  his  tatters.  His  face,  too,  had  lost  its  vacant 
and  careless  air,  and  the  poor  creature  looked  hollow-eyed, 
meagre,  half-starved,  and  nerv'^ous  to  a  pitiable  degree. — After 
long  hesitation,  he  at  length  approached  Waverley  with  some 
confidence,  stared  him  sadly  in  the  face,  and  said,  "  A'  dead 
and  gane — a'  dead  and  gane  !  " 

"  Who  are  dead  .?  "  said  Waverley,  forgetting  the  incapacity 
ftf  Davie  to  hold  any  connected  discourse. 


WAVE  RLE  Y.  367 

*  Baron — and  Bailie — and  Saunders  Saunderson — and  Lady 
Rose,  that  sae  sweet — A'  dead  and  gane — dead  and  gane !  " 

But  follow,  follow  me, 

While  glow-worms  light  the  lea  ; 

I'll  show  you  where  the  dead  should  be 

Each  in  his  shroud, 

While  winds  pipe  loud, 

And  the  red  moon  peeps  dim  through  the  cloud. 
Follow,  follow  me ; 
Brave  should  he  be 
That  treads  by  night  the  dead  man's  lea.'' 

With  these  words,  chanted  in  a  wild  and  earnest  tone,  he 
made  a  sign  to  Waverley  to  follow  him,  and  walked  rapidly 
towards  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  tracing  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  which,  it  maybe  remembered,  was  its  eastern  boundary. 
Edward,  over  whom  an  involuntary  suddering  stole  at  the  im- 
port of  his  words,  followed  him  in  some  hope  of  an  explanation. 
As  the  house  was  evidently  deserted,  he  could  not  expect  to 
find  among  the  ruins  any  more  rational  informer. 

Davie,  walking  very  fast,  soon  reached  the  extremity  of  the 
garden,  and  scrambled  over  the  ruins  of  the  wall  that  once  had 
divided  it  from  the  wooded  glen  in  which  the  old  Tower  of  Tully- 
Veolan  was  situated.  He  then  jumped  down  into  the  bed  of  the 
Stream,  and,  followed  by  Waverley,  proceeded  at  a  great  pace, 
climbing  over  some  fragments  of  rock,  and  turning  with  diffi- 
culty round  others.  They  passed  beneath  the  ruins  of  the  cas- 
tle ;  Waverley  followed,  keeping  up  with  his  guide  with  difficulty, 
for  the  twilight  began  to  fall.  Following  the  descent  of  the 
stream  a  little  lower,  he  totally  lost  him,  but  a  twinkling  light, 
which  he  now  discovered  among  the  tangled  copse-wood  and 
bushes,  seemed  a  surer  guide.  He  soon  pursued  a  very  uncouth 
path  ;  and  by  its  guidance  at  length  reached  the  door  of  2> 
wretched  hut,  A  fierce  barking  of  dogs  was  at  first  heard,  bu\ 
it  stilled  at  his  approach.  A  voice  sounded  from  within,  and 
he  held  it  most  prudent  to  listen  before  he  advanced. 

"  Wha  hast  thou  brought  here,  thou  unsonsy  villain  thou  ?  " 
said  an  old  woman,  apparently  in  great  indignation.  He  heard 
Davie  Gellatley,  in  answer,  whistle  a  part  of  the  tune  by  which 
he  had  recalled  himself  to  the  simpleton's  memory,  and  had  now 
no  hesitation  to  knock  at  the  door.  There  was  a  dead  silence 
instantly  within,  except  the  deep  growling  of  the  dogs ;  and  he 
next  heard  the  mistress  of  the  hut  approach  the  door,  not  prob- 
ably for  the  sake  of  undoing  a  latch,  but  of  fastening  a  bolt,. 
To  prevent  this  Waverley  lifted  the  latch  himself. 

'*  In  front  was  an  old  wretched-looking  woman,  exclaiming, 


368  WAVERLEY. 

"  Wha  comes  into  folk's  houses  in  this  gate,  at  this  time  o'  I'k 
night  ?  "  On  one  side,  two  grim  and  half-s'^arved  deer  gray- 
hounds  laid  aside  their  ferocity  at  his  appearance,  and  seemed 
to  recognize  him.  On  the  other  side,  half  concealed  by  the 
open  door,  yet  apparently  seeking  that  concealment  reluctantly, 
with  a  cocked  pistol  in  his  right  hand,  and  his  left  in  the  act  of 
drawing  another  from  his  belt,  stood  a  tall  bony  gaunt  figure  in 
the  remnants  of  a  faded  uniform,  and  a  beard  of  three  weeks' 
growth. 

It  was  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add, 
that  he  threw  aside  his  weapon,  and  greeted  Waverley  with  a 
hearty  embrace. 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-FOURTH. 

COMPARING   OF   NOTES. 

The  Baron's  story  was  short,  when  divested  of  the  adages 
and  commonplaces,  Latin,  English,  and  Scotch,  with  which  his 
erudition  garnished  it.  He  insisted  much  upon  his  grief  at  the 
loss  of  Edward  and  of  Glennaquoich,  fought  the  fields  of  Fal- 
kirk and  Culloden,  and  related  how,  after  all  was  lost  in  the 
last  battle,  he  had  returned  home,  under  the  idea  of  more  easily 
finding  shelter  among  his  own  tenants  and  on  his  own  estate, 
than  elsewhere.  A  party  of  soldiers  had  been  sent  to  lay  waste 
his  property,  for  clemency  was  not  the  order  of  the  day.  Their 
proceedings,  however,  were  checked  by  an  order  from  the  civil 
court.  The  estate,  it  was  found,  might  not  be  forfeited  to  the 
crown,  to  the  prejudice  of  Malcolm  Bradwardine  of  Inch-Grab- 
bit,  the  heir-mail,  whose  claim  could  not  be  prejudiced  by  the 
Baron's  attainder,  as  deriving  no  right  through  him,  and  who, 
therefore,  like  other  heirs  of  entail  in  the  same  situation,  entered 
upon  possession.  But,  unlike  many  in  similar  circumstances 
the  new  laird  speedily  showed  that  he  intended  utterly  to  ex- 
clude his  predecessor  from  all  benefit  of  advantage  in  the  es- 
tate, and  that  it  was  his  purpose  to  avail  himself  of  the  old 
Baron's  evil  fortune  to  the  full  extent.  This  was  the  more  un- 
generous, as  it  was  generaliy  known,  that,  from  a  romantic  idea 
of  not  prejudicing  this  young  man's  right  as  heir-mail,  the 
Baron  had  refrained  from  settling  his  estate  on  his  daughter. 

This  selfish  injustice  was  resented  by  the  country  people^ 


WAVERLEY.  3(5^ 

who  were  partial  to  their  old  master,  and  irritated  against  his 
successor.  In  the  Baron's  own  words,  "  The  matter  did  not 
coincide  with  the  feelings  of  the  commons  of  Bradwardine,  Mr. 
Waverley ;  and  the  tenants  were  slack  and  repugnant  in  pay- 
ment of  their  mails  and  duties  ;  and  when  my  kinsman  came  to 
the  village  wi'  the  new  factor,  Mr.  James  Howie,  to  lift  the 
rents,  some  wanchancy  person — I  suspect  John  Heatherblutter, 
the  auld  gamekeeper,  that  was  out  wi'  mei  in  the  year  fifteen— « 
fired  a  shot  at  him  in  the  gloaming,  whereby  he  was  so  affrighted, 
that  I  may  say  with  Tullius  in  Catilinam,  Abiif,  evasit,  erupit^ 
effiigit.  He  fled,  sir,  as  one  may  say,  incontinent  to  Stirling. 
And  now  he  hath  advertised  the  estate  for  sale,  being  himself 
the  last  substitute  in  the  entail. — And  if  I  were  to  lament  about 
sic  matters,  this  would  grieve  me  mair  than  its  passing  from  my 
immediate  possession,  whilk,  by  the  course  of  nature,  must  have 
happened  in  a  few  years.  Whereas  now  it  passes  from  the  line- 
age that  should  have  possessed  it  in  scBCula  sceculorum.  But 
God's  will  be  done,  hiimana  perpessi  sumus.  Sir  John  of  Brad- 
wardine— Black  Sir  John,  as  he  is  called — who  was  the  common 
ancestor  of  our  house  and  the  Inch-Grabbits,  little  thought  such 
a  person  would  have  sprung  from  his  loins.  Meantime,  he  has 
accused  me  to  some  of  t\\Q  primates,  the  rulers  for  the  time,  ay 
if  I  were  a  cut-throat,  and  an  abettor  of  bravoes  and  assassr 
nates,  and  coupe-j arrets.  And  they  have  sent  soldiers  here  to 
abide  on  the  estate,  and  hunt  me  like  a  partridge  upon  the 
mountains,  as  Scripture  says  of  good  King  David,  or  like  oui 
valiant  Sir  William  Wallace, — not  that  I  bring  myself  into  com- 
parison with  either. — I  thought,  when  I  heard  you  at  the  door, 
they  had  driven  the  auld  deer  to  his  den  at  last ;  and  so  I  e'en 
proposed  to  die  at  bay,  like  a  buck  of  the  first  head. — But  now. 
Janet,  canna  ye  gie  us  something  for  supper?  " 

"  Ou  ay,  sir,  I'll  brander  the  moor  fowl  that  John  Heather- 
blutter brought  in  this  morning;  and  ye  see  puir  Davie's  roast- 
ing the  black  hen's  eggs. — I  daur  say,  Mr.  Wauverley,  ye  never 
kend  that  a'  the  <i'ggs  that  were  sae  weel  roasted  at  supper  in 
the  Ha'-house  were  aye  turned  by  our  Davie  ? — there's  no  the 
like  o'  him  ony  gate  for  powtering  wi'  his  fingers  amang  the 
bet  peat-ashes,  and  roasting  eggs."  Davie  all  this  while  lay  with 
his  nose  almost  in  the  fire,  nuzzling  among  the  ashes,  kicking 
his  heels,  mumbling  to  himself,  turning  the  eggs  as  they  lay  in 
the  hot  embers,  as  if  to  confute  the  proverb,  that  "  there  goes 
reason  to  roasting  of  eggs,"  and  justify  the  eulogmm  which  poo/ 
Janet  poured  out  upon 

Him  whom  she  lovei^  <her  Uiot  hOjf 


jyo  WAVERLET. 

"Davie's  no  sae  silly  as  folk  talc  him  for,  Mr.  Wauverley, 
he  wadna  hae  brought  you  here  unless  he  had  kend  ye  was  a 
friend  to  his  Honor — indeed  the  very  dogs  kend  ye,  Mr.  Wauv- 
erley, for  ye  was  aye  kind  to  beast  and  body. — I  can  tell  you  a 
stor}'  o'  Davie,  wi'  his  Honor's  leave  :  His  Honor,  ye  see,  being 
under  hiding  in  thae  sair  times — the  mair's  the  pity — he  lies  a 
day,  and  whiles  a'  night,  in  the  cove  in  the  dern  hag  ;  but  though 
it's  a  bieldy  eneugh  bit,  and  the  auld  gudeman  o'  Corse-Cleugh 
has  panged  it  wi'  a  kemple  o'  strae  amaist,  yet  when  the  coun- 
try's quiet,  and  the  night  very  cauld,  his  Honor  whiles  creeps 
doun  here  to  get  a  warm  at  the  ingle,  and  a  sleep  among  the 
blankets,  and  gangs  awa  in  the  morning.  And  so,  ae  morning, 
siccan  a  fright  as  I  got !  Twa  unlucky  red-coats  w-ere  up  foi 
black-fishing,  or  some  siccan  ploy — for  the  neb  o'  them's  never 
out  o'  mischief — and  they  just  got  a  glisk  o'  his  Honor  as  he 
gaed  into  the  wood,  and  banged  off  a  gun  at  him.  I  out  like  a 
jer-falcon,  and  cried, — 'Wad  they  shoot  an  honest  woman's 
poor  innocent  bairn  ? '  And  I  fleyt  at  them,  and  threepit  it  wa^ 
my  son ;  and  they  damned  and  swuir  at  me  that  it  was  the 
auld  rebel,  as  the  villains  ca'd  his  Honor ;  and  Davie  was  in 
the  wood,  and  heard  the  tuilzie,  and  he,  just  out  o'  his  ain  head 
got  up  the  auld  gray  mantle  that  his  Honor  had  flung  off  him 
to  gang  the  faster,  and  he  came  out  o'  the  very  same  bit  o'  the 
wood,  majoring  and  looking  about  sae  like  his  Honor,  that  they 
were  clean  beguiled,  and  thought  they  had  letten  off  their  gun 
at  a  crack-brained  Sawney,  as  they  ca'd  him  ;  and  they  gae  me 
saxpence,  and  twa  saumon  fish,  to  say  naething  about  it. — Na, 
na  ;  Davie's  no  just  like  other  folk,  puir  fallow  ;  but  he's  no  sas 
silly  as  folk  tak  him  for, — But,  to  be  sure,  how  can  we  do  eneugh 
for  his  Honor,  when  we  and  ours  have  lived  on  his  ground  -Hiis 
twa  hundred  years  ;  and  w'hen  he  keepit  my.puir  Jamie  atschcl 
and  college,  and  even  at  the  Ha'-house,  till  he  gaed  to  a  bett-;r 
place  ;  and  when  he  saved  me  frae  being  ta'en  to  Perth  as.  a 
witch — Lord  forgi'e  them  that  would  touch  sic  a  puir  silly  auld 
body  ! — and  has  maintained  puir  Davie  at  heck  and  man^:er 
maist  feck  o'  his  life  ? " 

Waverley  at  length  found  an  opportunity  to  interrupt  Janet's 
narrative,  by  an  inquiry  after  Miss  Bradwardine. 

"  She's  weel  and  safe,  thank  God  !  at  the  Duchran,"  an- 
swered the  Baron.  "  The  laird's  distantly  related  to  us,  and 
more  nearly  to  my  chaplain,  Mr.  Kubrick  ;  and,  though  he  be 
cf  Whig  principles,  yet  he's  not  forgetful  of  auld  friendship  at 
this  time.  The  Bailie's  doing  what  he  can  to  save  something 
out  of  the  wreck  for  puir  Rose  i  but  I  doubt,  I  doubt,  I  shaS 


WAVERLEY.  371 

never  see  her  again,  for  I  maun  lav  my  banes  in  some  far 
country." 

"  Hout  na,  your  Honor,"  said  old  Janet ;  "  ye  were  just 
as  ill  aff  in  the  feifteen,  and  got  the  bonnie  baronie  back,  an 
a'. — And  now  the  eggs  is  ready,  and  the  muii"-cock's  brandered, 
and  there's  ilk  ane  a  trencher  and  some  saut,  and  the  heel  o' 
the  white  loaf  that  cam  frae  the  Bailie's  ;  and  there's  plenty 
o'  brandy  in  the  graybeard  that  Luckie  Maclearie  sent  doun  j 
and  winna  ye  be  suppered  like  princes  ?  " 

"I  wish  one  Prince,  at  least,  of  our  acquaintance,  may  be 
no  worse  off,"  said  the  Baron  to  Waverley,  who  joined  him  in 
cordial  hopes  for  the  safety  of  the  unfortunate  Chevalier. 

They  then  began  to  talk  of  their  future  prospects.  The 
Baron's  plan  was  very  simple.  It  was,  to  escape  to  France, 
where,  by  the  interest  of  his  old  friends,  he  hoped  to  get  some 
military  employment,  of  which  he  still  conceived  himself  capa- 
ble. He  invited  Waverley  to  go  with  him,  a  proposal  in  which 
he  acquiesced,  providing  the  interest  of  Colonel  Talbot  should 
fail  in  procuring  his  pardon.  Tacitly  he  hoped  the  Baron 
would  sanction  his  addresses  to  Rose,  and  give  him  a  right  to 
assist  him  in  his  exile  ;  but  he  forbore  to  speak  on  this  subject 
until  his  own  fate  should  be  decided.  They  then  talked  of 
Glennaquoich,  for  whom  the  Baron  expressed  great  anxiety, 
although,  he  observed,  he  was  "  the  very  Achilles  of  Horatius 
Flaccus, — 

Impiger,  iracundus,  inexorabilis,  acer. 

Which,"  he  continued,  "  has  been  thus  rendered  (vernacularly) 
by  Struan  Robertson  : — 

A  fiery  etter-cap,  a  fractious  chiel, 

As  het  as  ginger,  and  as  stieve  as  steel." 

Flora  had  a  large  and  unqualified  share  of  the  good  old 
man's  sympathy. 

It  was  now  wearing  late.  Old  Janet  got  into  some  kind  of 
kennel  behind  the  hallan.  Dave  had  been  long  asleep  and 
snoring  between  Ban  and  Buscar.  These  dogs  had  followed 
him  to  the  hut  after  the  mansion-house  was  deserted,  and  there 
constantly  resided  ;  and  their  ferocity,  with  the  old  woman's 
reputation  of  being  a  witch,  contributed  a  good  deal  to  keep 
visitors  from  the  glen.  With  this  view,  l]ailie  Macwheeble 
provided  Janet  underhand  with  meal  for  their  maintenance, 
and  also  with  little  articles  of  luxury  for  their  patron's  use,  in 
supplying  which  much  precaution  was  necessarily  used.  After 
Bome  compliments,  the  Baron  occupied  his  usual  couch,  and 


572  WAVERLEY. 

Waverley  reclined  in  an  easy  chair  of  tattered  velvet,  whici 
had  once  garnished  the  state  bed-room  of  Tully-Veolan  (for 
the  furniture  of  this  mansion  was  now  scattered  through  all 
the  cottages  in  the  vicinity),  and  went  to  sleep  as  comfortablv 
^s  if  he  had  been  in  a  bed  of  down. 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-FIFTH. 

MORE  EXPLANATION. 


With  the  first  dawn  of  day,  old  Janet  was  scuttling  about 
the  house  to  wake  the  Baron,  who  usually  slept  sound  and 
heavily. 

"  I  must  go  back,"  he  said  to  Waverley,  "  to  my  cove*. 
will  you  walk  down  the  glen  wi'  me  ? " 

They  went  out  together,  and  followed  a  narrow  and  en- 
tangled foot-path,  which  the  occasional  passage  of  anglers,  or 
wood-cutters,  had  traced  by  the  side  of  the  stream.  On  their 
way,  the  Baron  explained  to  Waverley,  that  he  would  be  under 
no  danger  in  remaining  a  day  or  two  at  Tully-Veolan,  and  even 
in  being  seen  walking  about,  if  he  used  the  precaution  of 
pretending  that  he  was  looking  at  the  estate  as  agent  or 
surveyor  for  an  English  gentleman,  who  designed  to  be  pur- 
chaser. With  this  view,  he  recommended  to  him  to  visit  the 
Bailie,  who  still  lived  at  the  factor's  house,  called  Little  Veolan, 
about  a  mile  from  the  village,  though  he  was  to  remove  at  next 
term.  Stanley's  passport  would  be  an  answer  to  the  officer 
who  commanded  the  military  ;  and  as  to  any  of  the  country 
people  who  might  recognize  Waverley,  the  Baron  assured  him 
that  he  was  in  no  danger  of  being  betrayed  by  them. 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  old  man,  "  half  the  people  of  the 
barony  know  that  their  poor  auld  laird  is  somewhere  hereabout ; 
for  I  see  they  do  not  suffer  a  single  bairn  to  come  here  a  bird- 
nesting — a  practice  whilk,  when  I  was  in  full  possession  of  my 
power  as  baron,  I  was  unable  totally  to  inhibit.  Nay,  I  often 
find  bits  of  things  in  my  way,  that  the  poor  bodies,  God  help 
them  !  leave  there,  because  they  think  they  may  be  useful  to 
me.  I  hope  they  will  get  a  wiser  master,  and  as  kind  a  one  as 
I  was." 

A  natural  sigh  closed  the  sentence  ;  but  the  quiet  equanim- 
ity witb  which  the  Baron  endured  his  misfortunes,  had  some* 


tVAVERLE}. 


373 


thing  in  it  venerable,  and  even  sublime.  There  was  no  fruitless 
repining,  no  turbid  melancholy ;  he  bore  his  lot,  and  the 
hardships  which  it  involved,  with  a  good-humored,  though 
serious  composure,  and  used  no  violent  language  against  tlie 
prevailing  party. 

.  *'  I  did  what  I  thought  my  duty,"  said  the  good  old  man, 
*  and  questionless  they  are  doing  what  they  think  theirs.  It 
grieves  me  sometimes  to  look  upon  these  blackened  walls  of 
the  house  of  my  ancestors ;  but  doubtless  officers  cannot 
always  keep  the  soldier's  hand  from  depredation  and  spuilzie  j 
and  Gustavus  Adolphus  himself,  as  ye  may  read  in  Colonel 
Munro  his  Expedition  with  the  worthy  Scotch  regiment  called 
Mackay's  regiment,  did  often  permit  it. — Indeed  I  have  myself 
seen  as  sad  sights  as  TuUy-Veolan  now  is,  when  I  served  with 
the  Mareschal  Duke  of  Berwick.  To  be  sure,  we  may  say  with 
Virgillus  Maro,  Fuimiis  Troes — and  there's  the  end  of  an  auld 
sang.  But  houses  and  families  and  men  have  a'  stood  lang 
enough  when  they  have  stood  till  they  fall  with  honor  ;  and 
now  I  hae  gotten  a  house  that  is  not  unlike  a  dofnus  iiltifna  " 
. — they  were  now  standing  below  a  steep  rock.  "  We  poor 
Jacobites,"  continued  the  Baron,  looking  up,  "  are  now  like 
the  conies  in  Holy  Scripture  (which  the  great  traveller  Pocoke 
calleth  Jerboa),  a  feeble  people,  that  make  our  abode  in  the 
rocks.  So,  fare  you  well,  my  good  lad,  till  we  meet  at  Janet's 
in  the  even  ;  for  I  must  get  into  my  Patmos,  which  is  no  easy 
matter  for  my  auld  stiff  limbs." 

With  that  he  began  to  ascend  the  rocks,  striding,  with  the 
help  of  his  hands,  from  one  precarious  footstep  to  another,  till 
he  got  about  half-way  up,  where  two  or  three  bushes  concealed 
the  mouth  of  a  hole,  resembling  an  oven,  into  which  the  Baron 
insinuated,  first  his  head  and  shoulders,  and  then,  by  slow 
gradation,  the  rest  of  his  long  body  ;  his  legs  and  feet  finally 
disappearing,  coiled  up  like  a  huge  snake  entering  his  retreat, 
or  a  long  pedigree  introduced  with  care  and  difficulty  into  the 
narrow  pigeon-hole  of  an  old  cabinet.  Waverley  had  the 
curiosity  to  clamber  up  and  look  in  upon  hi;n  in  his  den,  as 
the  lurking-place  might  well  be  termed.  Upon  the  whole,  he 
looked  not  unlike  tliat  ingenious  puzzle,  called  a  reel  in  a  bottle, 
the  marvel  of  chiklren  (and  of  some  grown  people  too,  myself 
for  one),  v/ho  can  neither  comprehend  the  mystery  how  it  has 
got  in,  or  how  it  is  to  be  taken  out.  -  The  cave  was  very 
narrow,  too  low  in  the  roof  to  admit  of  his  standing,  or  almost 
of  his  sitting  up,  though  he  made  some  awkward  attempts  at 
the  latter  posture.     His  sole  amusement  was  the  perusal  of  hii 


S74 


tVAVERLEY. 


old  friend  Titus  LiviuSj  varied  by  occasionally  scratching  Latin 
proverbs  and  texts  of  Scripture  with  his  knife  on  the  roof  and 
walls  of  his  fortalice,  which  were  of  sandstone.  As  the  cave 
was  dry,  and  filled  with  clean  straw  and  withered  fern,  "  it 
made,"  as  he  said,  coiling  himself  up  with  an  air  of  snugness 
and  comfort  which  contrasted  strangely  with  his  situation, 
"  unless  when  the  wind  was  due  north,  a  very  passable  gite  for 
an  old  soldier."  Neither,  as  he  observed,  was  he  without 
sentries  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitring.  Davie  and  his 
mother  were  constantly  on  the  watch,  to  discover  and  avert 
danger  ;  and  it  was  singular  what  instances  of  address  seemed 
dictated  by  the  instinctive  attachment  of  the  poor  simpleton, 
when  his  patron's  safety  was  concerned. 

With  Janet,  Edward  now  sought  an  inten-iew.  He  had 
recognized  her  at  first  sight  as  the  old  woman  who  had  nursed 
\iim  during  his  sickness  after  his  delivery  from  Gifted  Gilfillan. 
The  hut,  also,  though  a  little  repaired,  and  somewhat  better 
furnished,  was  certainly  the  place  of  his  confinement ;  and  he 
now  recollected  on  the  common  moor  of  TuUy-Veolan  the 
trunk  of  a  large  decayed  tree,  called  the  frystmg-tree,  which  he 
had  no  doubt  was  the  same  at  which  the  Highlanders  rendez- 
voused on  that  memorable  night.  All  this  he  had  combined  in 
fcis  imagination  the  night  before ;  but  reasons,  which  may 
probably  occur  to  the  reader,  prevented  him  from  catechizing 
Janet  in  the  presence  of  the  Baron. 

He  now  commenced  the  task  in  good  earnest ;  and  the  first 
question  was,  Who  was  the  young  lady  that  visited  the  hut 
during  his  illness  ?  Janet  paused  for  a  little  ;  and  then  observed, 
that  to  keep  the  secret  now,  would  neither  do  good  nor  ill  to 
anybody,  "  It  was  just  a  leddy  that  hasna  her  equal  in  the 
world — Miss  Rose  Bradwardine." 

"  Then  Miss  Rose  was  probably  also  the  author  of  my  deliv- 
erance," inferred  Waverley,  delighted  at  the  confirmation  of  an 
idea  which  local  circumstances  had  already  induced  him  to 
entertain. 

"  I  wot  weel,  Mr.  Wauverley,  and  that  was  she  e'en  ;  but 
sair,  sair  angry  and  affrounted  w'ad  she  hae  been,  puir  thing,  if 
she  had  thought  ye  had  been  ever  to  ken  a  word  about  the 
matter  ;  for  she  gar'd  me  speak  aye  Gaelic  when  ye  was  in 
hearing,  to  mak  ye  trow  we  w-ere  in  the  Hielands.  I  can 
speak  it  weil  eneugh,  for  my  mother  was  a  Hieland  woman." 

A  few  more  questions  now  brought  out  the  whole  mystery 
respecting  \^' averley's  deliverance  from  the  bondage  in  which  he 
left   Cairnvreckan.      Never   did   music  sound  sweeter   to   aa 


IVAVERLEY.  rt% 

amateur,  than  the  drowsy  tautology,  with  which  old  Janet  de« 
tailed  every  circumstance,  thrilled  upon  the  ears  of  Waverley. 
But  my  reader  is  not  a  lover,  and  I  must  spare  his  patience, 
by  attempting  to  condense  within  reasonable  compass  the 
narrative  which  old  Janet  spread  through  a  harangue  of  nearly 
two  hours. 

When  Waverley  communicated  to  Fergus  the  letter  he  had 
received  from  Rose  Bradwardine,  by  Davie  Gellatley,  giving  an 
account  of  Tully-Veolan  being  occupied  by  a  small  party  of 
soldiers,  that  circumstance  had  struck  upon  the  busy  and  active 
mind  of  the  Chieftain.  Eager  to  distress  and  narrow  the  posts 
of  the  enemy,  desirous  to  prevent  their  establishing  a  garri- 
son so  near  him,  and  willing  also  to  oblige  the  Baron, — for  he 
often  had  the  idea  of  marriage  with  Rose  floating  through  his 
brain, — he  resolved  to  send  some  of  his  people  to  drive  out 
the  red-coats,  and  to  bring  Rose  to  Glennaquoich,  But  just 
as  he  had  ordered  Evan  with  a  small  party  on  this  duty,  the 
news  of  Cope's  having  marched  into  the  Highlands  to  meet 
and  disperse  the  forces  of  the  Chevalier  ere  they  came  to  a 
head,  obliged  him  to  join  the  standard  with  his  whole  forces. 

He  sent  to  order  Donald  Bean  to  attend  him  ;  but  that 
cautious  freebooter,  who  well  understood  the  value  of  a  separ- 
ate command,  instead  of  joining,  sent  various  apologies  which 
the  pressure  of  the  times  compelled  Fergus  to  admit  as  current, 
though  not  without  the  internal  resolution  of  being  revenged  on 
him  for  his  procrastination,  time  and  place  convenient.  How- 
ever, as  he  could  not  amend  the  matter,  he  issued  orders  to 
Donald  to  descend  into  the  Low  Country,  drive  the  soldiers 
from  Tully-Veolan,  and,  paying  all  respect  to  the  mansion  of 
the  Baron,  to  take  his  abode  somewhere  near  it,  for  protection 
of  his  daughter  and  family,  and  to  harass  and  drive  away  any 
of  the  armed  volunteers,  or  small  parties  of  military,  which  he 
might  find  moving  about  the  vicinity. 

As  this  charge  formed  a  sort  of  roving  commission,  which 
Donald  proposed  to  interpret  in  the  way  most  advantageous  to 
himself,  as  he  was  relieved  from  the  immediate  terrors  of  Fergus, 
and  as  he  had,  from  former  secret  services,  some  interest  in 
the  councils  of  the  Chevalier,  he  resolved  to  make  hay  while 
the  sun  shone.  He  achieved,  without  difficulty,  the  task  of 
driving  the  soldiers  from  Tully-Veolan  ;  but  although  he  did 
not  venture  to  encroach  upon  the  interior  of  the  family,  or  to 
disturb  Miss  Rose,  being  unwilling  to  make  himself  a  powerful 
enemy  in  the  Chevalier's  army, 

For  well  he  knew  tlie  Baron's  wrath  was  deadly : 


jyS  WAVERLEY. 

yet  he  set  about  to  raise  contributions  and  exactions  upon  thf 
tenantry,  and  otherwise  to  turn  tlie  war  to  his  own  advantage. 
Meanwhile  he  mounted  the  white  cockade,  and  waited  upon 
Rose  with  a  pretext  of  great  devotion  for  tlie  service  in  which 
her  father  was  engaged,  and  many  apologies  for  the  freedom 
he  must  necessarily  use  for  tlie  support  of  his  people.  It  was 
at  this  moment  that  Rose  learned,  by  open-mouthed  fame,  with 
all  sorts  of  exaggeration,  that  Waverley  had  killed  the  smith 
of  Cairnvreckan,  in  an  attempt  to  arrest  him  ;  had  been  cast 
into  a  dungeon  by  Major  Melville  of  Cairnvreckan,  and  was  to 
be  executed  by  martial  law  within  three  days.  In  the  agony 
which  these  tidings  excited,  she  proposed  to  Donald  Bean  the 
rescue  of  the  prisoner.  It  was  the  very  sort  of  service  which 
he  was  desirous  to  undertake,  judging  it  might  constitute  a 
merit  of  such  a  nature  as  would  make  amends  for  any  pecca- 
dilloes v/hich  he  might  be  guilty  of  in  the  country.  He  had 
the  art,  however,  pleading  all  the  while  duty  and  discipline,  to 
hold  off,  until  poor  Rose,  in  the  extremity  of  her  distress, 
ofifered  to  bribe  him  to  the  enterprise  with  some  valuable 
jewels  which  had  been  her  mother's. 

Donald  Bean,  who  had  served  in  France,  knew,  and  perhaps 
over-estimated  the  value  of  these  trinkets.  But  he  also  per- 
ceived Rose's  apprehensions  of  its  being  discovered  that  she 
had  parted  with  her  jewels  for  Waverley's  liberation.  Re- 
solved this  scruple  should  not  part  him  and  the  treasure,  he 
voluntarily  offered  to  take  an  oath  that  he  would  never  mention 
Miss  Rose's  share  in  the  transaction  ;  and  foreseeing  con- 
venience in  keeping  the  oath,  and  no  probable  advantage  in 
breaking  it,  he  took  the  engagement — in  order,  as  he  told  his 
lieutenant,  to  deal  handsomely  by  the  young  lady — in  the  only 
form  and  mode  which,  by  a  mental  paction  with  himself,  he 
considered  as  binding — he  swore  secrecy  upon  his  drawn  dirk. 
He  was  the  more  especially  moved  to  this  act  of  good  faith  by 
some  attentions  that  Miss  Bradwardine  showed  to  his  daughter 
Alice,  which,  while  they  gained  the  heart  of  the  mountain 
damsel,  highly  gratified  the  pride  of  her  father.  Alice,  who 
could  now  speak  a  little  English,  was  very  communicative  in 
return  for  Rose's  kindness,  readily  confided  to  her  the  whole 
papers  respecting  the  intrigue  with  Gardiner's  regiment,  of 
which  she  was  the  depositary,  and  as  readily  undertook,  at  hei 
instance,  to  restore  them  to  Waverley  without  her  father's 
knowledge.  "  For  they  may  oblige  the  bonnie  young  lady 
and  the  handsome  young  gentleman,"  said  Alice,  "and  what 
Use  has  my  father  for  a  wheen  bits  o'  scarted  paper?  " 


WAVERLEY. 


377 


The  reader  is  aware  that  she  took  an  opportunity  of  exe- 
cuting this  purpose  on  the  eve  of  Waverley's  leaving  the  glen. 

How  Donald  executed  his  enterprise,  the  reader  is  aware. 
But  the  expulsion  of  the  military  from  Tully-Veolan  had  given 
alarm,  and,  while  he  was  lying  in  wait  for  Gilfillan,  a  strong 
party,  such  as  Donald  did  not  care  to  face,  was  sent  to  drive 
back  the  insurgents  in  their  turn,  to  encamp  there,  and  to  pro- 
tect the  country.  The  officer,  a  gentleman  and  a  disciplinarian, 
neither  intruded  hnnself  on  Miss  Bradwardine,  whose  unpro- 
tected situation  he  respected,  nor  permitted  his  soldiers  to 
commit  any  breach  of  discipline.  He  formed  a  little  camp, 
upon  an  eminence  near  the  house  of  Tully-Veolan,  and  placed 
proper  guards  at  the  passes  in  the  vicinity.  This  unwelcome 
news  reached  Donald  Bean  Lean  as  he  was  returning  to  Tully- 
Veolan.  Determined,  however,  to  obtain  the  guerdon  of  his 
labor,  he  resolved,  since  approach  to  Tully-Veolan  was  impos- 
sible, to  deposit  his  prisoner  in  Janet's  cottage — a  place  the 
very  existence  of  which  could  hardly  have  been  suspected  even 
by  those  who  had  long  lived  in  the  vicinity,  unless  they  had 
been  guided  thither,  and  which  was  utterly  unknown  to  Waver- 
ley  himself.  This  effected,  he  claimed  and  received  his  re- 
Ward.  Waverley's  illness  was  an  event  which  deranged  all 
their  calculations.  Donald  was  obliged  to  leave  the  neighbor- 
hood with  his  people,  and  to  seek  more  free  course  for  his 
adventures  elsewhere.  At  Rose's  earnest  entreaty,  he  left  an 
old  man,  a  herbalist,  who  was  supposed  to  understand  a  little 
of  medicine,  to  attend  Waverley  during  his  illness. 

In  the  mean  while,  new  and  fearful  doubts  started  in  Rose's 
mind.  They  were  suggested  by  old  Janet,  who  insisted  that 
a  reward  having  been  offered  for  the  apprehension  of  Waver- 
ley, and  his  own  personal  effects  being  so  valuable,  there  was 
no  saying  to  what  breach  of  faith  Donald  might  be  tempted. 
In  an  agony  of  grief  and  terror.  Rose  took  the  daring  resolu- 
tion of  explaining  to  the  Prince  himself  the  danger  in  which 
Mr.  Waverley  stood,  judging  that,  both  as  a  politician,  and  a 
man  of  honor  and  humanity,  Charles  Edward  would  interest 
himself  to  prevent  his  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  opposite 
party.  This  letter  she  at  first  thought  of  sending  anonymously, 
but  naturally  feared  it  would  not,  in  that  case,  be  credited. 
She  therefore  subscribed  her  name,  though  with  reluctance 
and  terror,  and  consigned  it  in  charge  to  a  young  man,  who,  at 
leaving  his  farm  to  join  the  Chevalier's  army,  made  it  his 
petition  to  her  to  have  some  sort  of  credentials  to  the  Adven- 
turer, from  whom  he  hoped  to  obtain  a  commission. 


jyg  WAVERLEY. 

The  letter  reached  Charles  Edward  on  his  descent  to  th« 
Lowlands,  and,  aware  of  the  political  importance  of  having  it 
supposed  that  he  was  in  correspondence  with  the  English  Jaco- 
bites, he  caused  the  most  positive  orders  to  be  transmitted  to 
Donald  Bean  Lean,  to  transmit  Waverley,  safe  and  uninjured 
in  person  or  effects,  to  the  governor  of  Doune  Castle.  The 
freebooter  durst  not  disobey,  for  the  army  of  the  Prince  war 
now  so  near  him  that  punishment  might  have  followed ;  besides, 
he  was  a  politician  as  well  as  a  robber,  and  was  unwilling  to 
cancel  the  interest  created  through  former  secret  services,  by 
being  refractory  on  this  occasion.  He  therefore  made  a  virtue 
of  necessity,  and  transmitted  orders  to  his  lieutenant  to  convey 
Edward  to  Doune,  which  was  safely  accomplished  in  the  mode 
mentioned  in  a  former  chapter.  The  governor  of  Doune  was 
directed  to  send  him  to  Edinburgh  as  a  prisoner,  because  the- 
Prince  was  apprehensive  that  Waverley,  if  set  at  liberty,  might 
have  resumed  his  purpose  of  returning  to  England,  without 
affording  him  an  opportunity  of  a  personal  interview.  In  this, 
indeed  he  acted  by  the  advice  of  the  Chieftain  of  Glennaquoich, 
with  whom  it  may  be  remembered  the  Chevalier  communicated 
upon  the  mode  of  disposing  of  Edward,  though  without  telling 
him  how  he  came  to  learn  the  place  of  confinement. 

This,  indeed,  Charles  Edward  considered  as  a  lady's  secret  j 
for  although  Rose's  letter  was  couched  in  the  most  cautious 
and  general  terms,  and  professed  to  be  written  merely  from 
motives  of  humanity,  and  zeal  for  the  Prince's  servicf*,  yet  she 
expressed  so  anxious  a  wish  that  she  should  not  be  known  to 
have  interfered,  that  the  Chevalier  was  induced  to  suspect  the 
deep  interest  which  she  took  in  Waverley's  safety.  This  con- 
jecture, which  was  well  founded,  led,  however,  to  false  infer- 
ences. For  the  emotion  which  Edward  displayed  on  approach- 
ing Flora  and  Rose  at  the  ball  of  Holyrood,  was  placed  by  the 
Chevalier  tc  the  account  of  the  latter  ;  and  he  concluded  that 
the  Baron's  views  about  the  settlement  of  his  property,  or  some 
such  obstacle,  thwarted  their  mutual  inclinations.  Common 
fame,  it  is  true,  frequently  gave  Waverley  to  Miss  Mac-Ivor  \ 
but  the  Prince  knew  that  common  fame  is  very  prodigal  in  such 
gifts ;  and,  watching  attentively  the  behavior  of  the  ladies 
towards  Waverley,  he  had  no  doubt  that  the  young  Englishman 
had  no  interest  with  Flora,  and  was  beloved  by  Rose  Bradv/ar- 
dine.  Desirous  to  bind  Waverley  to  his  service,  and  wishing 
also  to  do  a  kind  and  friendly  action,  the  Prince  next  assailed 
the  Baron  on  the  subject  of  settling  his  estate  upon  his  daugh* 
tar.     Mr.  Bradwardine  acquiesced  ;  but  the  consequence  was, 


WAVER  LEY. 


379 


that  Fergus  was  immediately  induced  to  prefer  his  double  suit 
for  a  wife  and  an  earldom,  which  the  prince  rejected  in  the 
manner  we  have  seen.  The  Chevalier,  constantly  engaged  in 
his  own  multiplied  affairs,  had  not  hitherto  sought  any  explana- 
tion with  Waverley,  though  often  meaning  to  do  so.  But  after 
Fergus's  declaration,  he  saw  the  necessity  of  appearing  neutral 
between  the  rivals,  devoutly  hoping  that  the  matter,  which  noM» 
seemed  fraught  with  the  seeds  of  strife,  might  be  permitted  to 
lie  over  till  the  termination  of  the  expedition.  When  on  the 
march  to  Derby,  Fergus,  being  questioned  concerning  his 
quarrel  with  Waverley,  alleged  as  the  cause,  that  Edward  was 
desirous  of  retracting  the  suit  he  made  to  his  sister,  the  Chev- 
alier plainly  told  him,  that  he  had  himself  observed  Miss 
Mac-Ivor's  behavior  to  Waverley,  and  that  he  was  convinced 
that  Fergus  was  under  the  influence  of  a  mistake  in  judging  of 
Waverley's  conduct,  who,  he  had  every  reason  to  believe,  was 
engaged  to  Miss  Bradwardine.  The  quarrel  which  ensued 
between  Edward  and  the  chieftain  is,  I  hope,  still  in  the  re- 
membrance of  the  reader.  These  circumstances  will  serve  to 
explain  such  points  of  our  narrative  as,  according  to  the  custom 
of  story-tellers,  we  deemed  it  fit  to  leave  unexplained,  for  the 
purpose  of  exciting  the  reader's  curiosity. 

When  Janet  had  once  finished  the  leading  facts  of  this 
narrative,  Waverley  was  easily  enabled  to  apply  the  clew  which 
they  afforded,  to  other  mazes  of  the  labyrinth  in  which  he  had 
been  engaged.  To  Rose  Bradwardine,  then,  he  owed  the  life 
which  he  now  thought  he  could  willingly  have  laid  down  to 
serve  her.  A  little  reflection  convinced  him,  however,  that  to 
live  for  her  sake  was  more  convenient  and  agreeable,  and  that, 
being  possessed  of  independence,  she  might  share  it  with  him 
either  in  foreign  countries  or  in  his  own.  The  pleasure  of 
being  allied  to  a  man  of  the  Baron's  high  worth,  and  who  was 
BO  much  valued  by  his  uncle  Sir  Everard,  was  also  an  agreeable 
consideration,  had  anything  been  wanting  to  recommend  the 
match.  His  absurdities,  which  had  appeared  grotesquely  ludi- 
crous during  his  prosperity,  seemed,  in  the  sunset  of  his  fortune, 
to  be  harmonized  and  assimilated  with  the  noble  features  of 
his  character,  so  as  to  add  peculiarity  without  exciting  ridicule. 
His  mind  occupied  with  such  projects  of  future  happiness, 
Edward  sought  Little  Veolan,  the  habitation  of  Mr.  Duncan 
Klacwheebk. 


fio  WAVERLBY- 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-SIXTH 

Now  is  Cupid  like  a  child  of  conscience — lie  makes  restitution. 

Shakespeari, 

Mr.  Duncan  Macwheeble,  no  longer  commissary  or  Bailie^ 
though  still  enjoying  the  empty  name  of  the  latter  dignity,  had 
escaped  proscription  by  an  early  secession  from  the  insurgent 
party,  and  by  his  insignificance. 

Edward  found  him  in  his  office,  immersed  among  papers 
and  accounts.  Before  him  was  a  large  bicker  of  oatmeal-por- 
ridge, and  at  the  side  thereof,  a  horn-spoon  and  a  bottle  of 
two-penny.  Eagerly  running  his  eye  over  a  voluminoub  law- 
paper,  he  from  time  to  time  shovelled  an  immense  spoonful  of 
these  nutritive  viands  into  his  capacious  mouth.  A  pot-bellied 
Dutch  bottle  of  brandy  which  stood  by,  intimated  either  that 
this  honest  limb  of  the  law  had  taken  his  morning  already,  or 
that  he  meant  to  season  his  porridge  with  such  digestive  \  or 
perhaps  both  circumstances  might  reasonably  be  inferred. 
His  night-cap  and  morning-gown  had  whilome  been  of  tartan, 
but,  equally  cautious  and  frugal,  the  honest  Bailie  had  got 
tiiem  dyed  black,  lest  their  original  ill-omened  color  might 
remind  his  visitors  of  his  unlucky  excursion  to  Derby.  To 
sum  up  the  picture,  his  face  was  daubed  with  snuff  up  to  the 
eyes,  and  his  fingers  with  ink  up  to  the  knuckles.  He  looked 
dubiously  at  Waverley  as  he  approached  the  little  green  rail 
which  fenced  his  desk  and  stool  from  the  approach  of  the 
vulgar.  Nothing  could  give  the  Bailie  more  annoyance  than 
the  idea  of  his  acquaintance  being  claimed  by  any  of  the  wxv 
fortunate  gentlemen  who  were  now  so  much  more  likely  to 
need  assistance  than  to  afford  profit.  But  this  was  the  rich 
young  Englishman — who  knew  what  might  be  his  situation  ? — ■ 
he  was  the  Baron's  friend  too — what  was  to  be  done  .'* 

While  these  reflections  gave  an  air  of  absurd  perplexity  to 
the  poor  man's  visage,  Waverley,  reflecting  on  the  communica- 
tion he  was  about  to  make  to  him,  of  a  nature  so  ridiculously 
contrasted  with  the  appearance  of  the  individual,  could  not 
help  bursting  out  a  laughing,  as  he  checked  the  propensity  to 
Cxclahn  with  Syphax — 

Gate's  a  proper  person  to  intrust 
A  love's-tale  with. 


tVAVEHLEr.  381 

As  Mr.  Macwheeble  had  no  idea  of  any  person  laughing 
heartily  who  was  either  encircled  by  peril  or  oppressed  by 
poverty,  the  hilarity  of  Edward's  countenance  greatly  relieved 
the  embarrassment  of  his  own,  and,  giving  him  a  tolerably 
hearty  welcome  to  Little  Veolan,  he  asked  what  he  would 
choose  for  breakfast.  His  visitor  had,  in  the  first  place,  some- 
thing for  his  private  ear,  and  begged  leave  to  bolt  the  door. 
Duncan  by  no  means  liked  this  precaution,  which  savored  of 
danger  to  be  apprehended  j  but  he  could  not  now  draw  back. 

Convinced  he  might  trust  this  man,  as  he  could  make  it 
his  interest  to  be  faithful,  Edward  communicated  his  present 
situation  and  future  schemes  to  Macwheeble.  The  wily  agent 
listened  with  apprehension  when  he  found  Waverley  was  still 
in  a  state  of  proscription — was  somewhat  comforted  by  learning 
that  he  had  a  passport — rubbed  his  hands  with  glee  when  he 
mentioned  the  amount  of  his  present  fortune — opened  huge 
eyes  when  he  heard  the  brilliancy  of  his  future  expectations  ; 
but  when  he  expressed  his  intention  to  share  them  with  Miss 
Rose  Bradwardine,  ecstasy  had  almost  deprived  the  honest 
man  of  his  senses.  The  Bailie  started  from  his  three-footed 
stool  like  the  Pythoness  from  her  tripod ;  flung  his  best  wi^ 
out  of  the  window,  because  the  block  on  which  it  was  p.aced 
stood  in  the  way  of  his  career ;  chucked  his  cap  to  the  ceiling, 
caught  it  as  it  fell ;  whistled  Tullochgorum  ;  danced  a  High- 
land fling  with  inimitable  grace  and  agility;  and  then  threw 
himself  exhausted  into  a  chair,  exclaiming,  "  Lady  Wauverley  I 
— ten  thousand  a  year,  the  least  penny ! — Lord  preserve  my 
poor  understanding !  " 

"  Amen,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Waverley  ; — "  but  now, 
Mr.  Macwheeble,  let  us  proceed  to  business."  This  word  had 
a  somewhat  sedative  effect,  but  the  Bailie's  head,  as  he  expressed 
himself,  was  still  "in  the  bees."  He  mended  his  pen,  however, 
marked  half-a-dozen  sheets  of  paper  with  an  ample  marginal 
fold,  whipped  down  Dallas  of  St.  Martin's  Styles  from  a  shelf, 
«vhere  that  venerable  work  roosted,  with  Stair'slnstitutions, 
Dirleton's  Doubts,  Balfour's  Practiques,  and  a  parcel  of  old 
iccount  books — opened  the  volume  at  the  article  Contract  of 
Marriage,  and  prepared  to  make  what  he  called  a  '*  sma ' 
minute,  to  prevent  parties  frae  resiling." 

With  some  difficulty,  Waverley  made  him  comprehend  that  hfc 
Was  going  a  little  too  fast.  Pie  explained  to  him  that  he  should 
want  his  assistance,  in  the  first  place,  to  make  his  residence 
safe  for  the  time,  by  writing  to  the  officer  at  Tully -Veolan, 
that   Mr.  Stanley,  an    English   gentleman,  nearly   related   to 


^j  WAVERLE^, 

Colonel  Talbot,  was  upon  a  visit  of  business  at  Mr.  Macwheeble'a 
and,  knowing  the  state  of  the  country,  had  sent  his  passport 
for  Captain  Foster's  inspection.  This  produced  a  polite  answer 
from  the  officer,  with  an  invitation  to  Mr.  Stanley  to  dine  with 
him,  which  was  declined  (as  may  easily  be  supposed),  under 
pretence  of  business. 

Waverley's  next  request  was,  that  Mr.  Macwheeble  would 

despatch  a  man  and  horse  to  ,  the  post  town,  at  which 

Colonel  Talbot  was  to  address  him,  with  directions  to  wait 
there  until  the  post  should  bring  a  letter  for  Mr.  Stanley,  and 
then  to  forward  it  to  Little  Veolan  with  all  speed.  In  a 
moment,  the  Bailie  was  in  search  of  his  apprentice  (or  servitor, 
as  he  was  called  Sixty  Years  since),  Jock  Scriever,  and  in  not 
much  greater  space  of  time  Jock  was  on  the  back  of  the  white 
pony. 

"  Tak  care  ye  guide  him  weel,  sir,  for  he's  aye  been  short 
fn  the  wind  since — ahem — Lord  be  gude  to  me  1  (in  a  low 
voice)  I  was  gaun  to  come  out  wi' — since  I  rode  whip  and  spur 
to  fetch  the  Chevalier  to  redd  Mr.  Wauverley  and  Vich  Ian 
Vohr  ;  and  an  uncanny  coup  I  gat  for  my  pains. — Lord  forgie 
your  honor  1  I  might  hae  broken  my  neck — but  troth  it  was 
in  a  venture,  mae  ways  nor  ane  ;  but  this  maks  amends  for  a'. 
Lady  Wauverley  ! — ten  *Jiousand  a  year ! — Lord  be  gude  unto 
me!  " 

"  But  you  forget-  /vir.  Macwheeble,  we  want  the  Baron's 
consent — tlie  lady's^^ — " 

"  Never  fear,  I'%e  be  caution  for  them — I'se  gie  you  my 
personal  warrandice — ten  thousand  a-year !  it  dings  Ealma- 
whapple  out  and  out — a  year's  rent's  worth  a'  Balmawhapple, 
fee  and  life-rent !     Lord  make  us  thankful !  " 

To  turn  the  current  of  his  feelings,  Edward  inquired  if  he 
had  heard  anything  lately  of  the  Chieftain  of  Glennaquoich  ? 

"  Not  one  word,"  answered  Macwheeble,  "  but  that  he  was 
still  in  Carlisle  Castle,  and  was  soon  to  be  panelled  for  his 
life.  I  dinna  wish  the  young  gentleman  ill,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
hope  that  they  that  hae  got  him  will  keep  him,  and  no  let  him 
back  to  this  Hieland  border  to  plague  us  wi'  black-mail,  and 
a'  manner  o'  violent,  wrongous,  and  masterfu'  oppression  and 
spoliation,  both  by  himself  and  others  of  his  causing,  sending, 
and  hounding  out  : — and  he  couldna  tak  care  o'  the  siller  when 
he  had  gotten  it  neither,  but  flung  it  a'  into  yon  idle  queen's  lap 
at  Edinburgh — but  light  come  light  gane.  For  my  part,  I  never 
wish  to  see  a  kilt  in  the  country  again,  nor  a  red-coat,  nor  a 
gun,  for  that  matter,  unless  it  were  to  shoot  a  paitrick  ; — they're 


WAVERLEY,  383 

a'  tarr'd  wi*  ae  stick.  And  when  they  have  done  ye  wrang, 
even  when  ye  hae  gotten  decreet  of  spulzie,  oiDpression,  and 
violent  profits  against  them,  what  better  are  ye  ? — they  hae  na 
a  plack  to  pay  ye ;  ye  need  never  extract  it." 

With  sucli  discourse,  and  the  intervening  topics  of  business, 
the  time  passed  until  dinner,  Macwheeble  meanwhile  promising 
to  devise  some  mode  of  introducing  Edward  at  the  Duchran, 
where  Rose  at  present  resided,  without  rislc  of  danger  or 
suspicion ;  which  seemed  no  very  easy  task,  since  the  laird  was 
a  very  zealous  friend  to  Government. — The  poultry-yard  had 
been  laid  under  requisition,  and  cockyleeky  and  Scotch  collops 
soon  reeked  in  the  Bailie's  little  parlor.  The  landlord's  cork- 
screw was  just  introduced  into  the  muzzle  of  a  pint-bottle  of 
claret  (cribbed  possibly  from  the  cellars  of  Tully-Veolan),  when 
the  sight  of  the  gray  pony,  j^assing  the  window  at  full  trot, 
induced  the  Bailie,  but  with  due  precaution,  to  place  it  aside 
for  the  moment.  Enter  Jock  Scriever  with  a  packet  for  Mr. 
Stanley :  it  is  Colonel  Talbot's  seal ;  and  Edward's  fingers 
tremble  as  he  undoes  it.  Two  official  papers,  folded,  signed, 
and  sealed  in  all  formality,  drop  out.  They  were  hastily  picked 
up  by  the  Bailie,  who  had  a  natural  respect  for  everything 
resembling  a  deed,  and,  glancing  slyly  on  their  titles,  his  eyes, 
or  rather  spectacles,  are  greeted  with  "  Protection  by  his  Royal 
Highness  to  the  person  of  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine,  Esq., 
of  that  ilk,  commonly  called  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  forfeited 
for  his  accession  to  the  late  rebellion."  The  other  proves  to  be 
a  protection  of  the  same  tenor  in  favor  of  Edward  Waverley, 
Esq.     Colonel  Talbot's  letter  was  in  these  words ; — 

"  My  Dear  Edward, 

"  I  am  just  arrived  here,  and  yet  I  have  finished  my  busmess ; 
it  has  cost  me  some  trouble  though,  as  you  shall  hear.  I  waited 
upon  his  Royal  Highness  immediately  on  my  arrival,  and  found 
him  in  no  very  good  humor  for  my  purpose.  Three  or  four 
Scotch  gentlemen  were  just  leaving  his  levee.  After  he  had 
expressed  himself  to  me  very  courteously  :  '  Would  you  think 
it,'  he  said,  '  Talbot  ?  here  have  been  half-a-dozen  of  the  most 
respectable  gentlemen,  and  best  friends  to  Government  north 
of  the  Forth, — Major  Melville  of  Cairnvreckan,  Rubrick  of 
Duchran,  and  others, — who  have  fairly  wrung  from  me,  by 
their  downright  importunity,  a  present  protection  and  the 
promise  of  a  future  pardon,  for  that  stubborn  old  rebel  whom 
they  call  Baron  of  Bradwardine.  They  allege  that  his  high 
personal  character,  and  the  clemency  which  he  showed  to  such 


384  IVAVERLEV. 

of  our  people  as  fell  into  the  rebel's  hands,  should  weign  in  his 
favor;  especially  as  the  loss  of  his  estate  is  likely  to  be  a  severe 
enough  punishment.  Rubrick  has  undertaken  to  keep  him  at 
his  own  house  till  things  are  settled  in  the  country  ;  but  it's  a 
little  hard  to  be  forced  in  a  manner  to  pardon  such  a  mortal 
enemy  to  the  House  of  Brunswick.'  This  was  no  favorable 
moment  for  opening  my  business  ; — however,  I  said  I  was 
rejoiced  to  learn  that  his  Royal  Highness  was  in  the  course  of 
granting  such  requests,  as  it  emboldened  me  to  present  one  of 
the  like  nature  in  ray  own  name.  He  was  very  angry,  but  I 
persisted  ; — I  mentioned  the  uniform  support  of  our  three  votes 
in  the  house,  touched  modestly  on  services  abroad,  though 
valuable  only  in  his  Royal  Highness's  having  been  pleased 
kindly  to  accept  them,  and  founded  pretty  strongly  on  his  owq 
expressions  of  friendship  and  good-will.  He  was  embarrassed, 
but  obstinate.  I  hinted  the  policy  of  detaching,  on  all  future 
occasions,  the  heir  of  such  a  fortune  as  your  uncle's  from  the 
machinations  of  the  disaffected.  But  I  made  no  impression 
I  mentioned  the  obligation  which  I  lay  under  to  Sir  Everard 
and  to  you  personally,  and  claimed  as  the  sole  reward  of  in> 
services,  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  afford  me  the  means  ol 
evincing  my  gratitude.  I  perceived  that  he  still  meditated  at 
refusal,  and  taking  my  commission  from  my  pocket,  f  said  (as 
a  last  resource),  that  as  his  Royal  Highness  did  not,  under  these 
pressing  circumstances,  think  me  worthy  of  a  favor  which  he 
had  not  scrupled  to  grant  to  other  gentlemen,  whose  services  I 
could  hardly  judge  more  important  than  my  own,  I  must  beg 
leave  to  deposit^  with  all  humility,  my  commission  in  his  Royal 
Highness's  hands,  and  to  retire  from  the  sfcr\ice.  He  was  not 
prepared  for  this ; — he  told  me  to  take  up  my  commission  ; 
said  some  handsome  things  of  my  services,  and  granted  my 
request.  You  are  therefore  once  more  a  free  man,  and  I  have 
promised  for  you  that  you  will  be  a  good  boy  in  future,  and 
remember  what  you  owe  to  the  lenity  of  Government.  Thus 
you  see  my  prince  can  be  as  generous  as  yours.  I  do  not 
pretend,  indeed,  that  ,he  confers  a  favor  with  all  the  foreigir 
graces  and  coirilpliments  of  your  Chevalier  errant ;  but  he  has 
a  plain  English  manner,  and  the  evident  reluctance  with  which 
he  grants  your  request,  indicates  the  sacrifice  which  he  makes 
of  his  own  inclination  to  your  wishes.  My  friend,  the  adjutant- 
general,  has  procured  me  a  duplicate  of  the  Baron's  protection 
(the  original  being  in  Major  Melville's  possession),  which  I 
send  to  you,  as  f  know  that  if  you  can  find  him  you  will  have 
pleasure  in  being  the  first  to  communicate  the  ioyful  ini^^JJgence. 


WAVER  LEY,  38^ 

He  will  of  course  repair  to  the  Duchran  without  loss  of  time, 
there  to  ride  quarantine  for  a  few  weeks.  As  for  you,  I  give 
you  leave  to  escort  him  thither,  and  to  stay  a  week  there,  as  I 
understand  a  certain  fair  lady  is  in  that  quarter.  And  I  have 
the  pleasure  to  tell  you,  that  whatever  progress  you  can  make 
in  her  good  graces  will  be  highly  agreeable  to  Sir  Everard  and 
Mrs.  Rachel,  who  will  never  believe  your  views  and  prospects 
settled,  and  the  three  ermines  passant  in  actual  safety,  until 
you  present  them  with  a  Mrs.  Edward  Waverley.  Now,  certain 
love-affairs  of  my  own — a  good  many  years  since — interrupted 
some  measures  which  were  then  proposed  in  favor  of  the  three 
ermines  passant ;  so  I  am  bound  in  honor  to  make  them 
amends.  Therefore  make  good  use  of  your  time,  for  when 
your  week  is  expired,  it  will  be  necessary  that  you  go  to  London 
to  plead  your  pardon  in  the  law  courts. 

"  Ever,  dear  Waverley,  yours  most  truly, 

"Philip  Talbot." 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-SEVENTH. 

Happy's  the  wooing 
That's  not  long  a  doing. 

When  the  first  rapturous  sensation  occasioned  by  these  ex- 
cellent tidings  had  somewhat  subsided,  Edward  proposed  in- 
stantly to  go  down  to  the  glen  to  acquaint  the  Baron  with 
their  import.  But  the  cautious  Bailie  justly  observed,  that  if 
the  Baron  were  to  appear  instantly  in  public,  the  tenantry  and 
villagers  might  become  riotous  in  expressing  their  joy,  and 
give  offence  to  "  the  powers  that  be,"  a  sort  of  persons  for 
whom  the  Bailie  always  had  unlimited  respect.  He  therefore 
proposed  that  Mr.  Waverley  should  go  to  Janet  Gellatley's 
and  bring  the  Baron  up  under  cloud  of  night  to  Little  Veolai^ 
where  he  might  once  more  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  good  bed.  In 
the  meanwhile,  he  said,  he  himself  would  go  to  Captain  l^'oster, 
and  show  him  the  Baron's  protection,  and  obtain  his  counte- 
nance for  harboring  him  that  night, — and  he  would  have  horses 
ready  on  the  morrow  to  set  him  on  his  way  to  the  Duchran 
along  with  Mr.  Stanley,  "whilk  denominational  apprehend 
your  honor  will  for  the  present  retain,"  said  the  Bailie. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Macwheeble  ;  but  will  you  not  go  down  to 
the  glen  yourself  in  the  evening  to  meet  your  patron  X " 


586  WAVER  LEY. 

"That  I  wad  wi'  a'  my  heart ;  and  mickle  obUged  to  yoiu 
honor  for  putting  me  in  mind  o'  my  bounden  duty.  But  it 
will  be  past  sunset  afore  I  get  back  frae  the  Captain's,  and  at 
these  unsonsy  hours  the  glen  has  a  bad  name — there's  some- 
thing no  that  canny  about  auld  Janet  Gellatley.  The  Laird 
he'll  no  believe  thae  things,  but  he  was  aye  ower  rash  and  ven- 
turesome— and  feared  neither  man  nor  deevil — and  sae's  seen 
o't.  But  right  sure  am  I  Sir  George  INIackenyie  says,  that  no 
divine  can  doubt  there  are  witches,  since  the  Bible  says  thou 
shalt  not  suffer  them  to  live ;  and  that  no  lawyer  in  Scotland 
can  doubt  it,  since  it  is  punishable  with  death  by  our  law.  So 
there's  baith  law  and  gospel  for  it.  An  his  honor  winna  be- 
lieve the  Leviticus,  he  might  aye  believe  the  Statute-book  :  but 
he  may  tak  his  ain  way  o't — it's  a'  ane  to  Duncan  ]\Iacwheeble. 
However,  I  shall  send  to  ask  up  auld  Janet  this  e'en  ;  it's  best 
no  to  lightly  them  that  have  that  character — and  we'll  want 
Davie  to  turn  the  spit,  for  I'll  gar  Eppie  put  down  a  fat  goose 
to  the  fire  for  your  honors  to  your  supper." 

When  it  was  near  sunset,  Waverley  hastened  to  the  hut ; 
and  he  could  not  but  allow  that  superstition  had  chosen  no 
improper  locality,  or  unfit  object,  for  the  foundation  of  her 
fantastic  terrors.  It  resembled  exactly  the  description  of 
Spenser : 

There,  in  a  gloomy  hollow  glen,  she  found 

A  little  cottage  built  of  sticks  and  reeds, 
In  homely  wise,  and  walPd  with  sods  around. 

In  which  a  witch  did  dwell  in  loathly  weeds, 
And  wilful  want,  all  careless  of  her  needs ; 

So  choosing  solitary  to  abide 
Far  from  all  neighbors,  that  her  devilish  deeds, 

And  hellish  arts,  from  people  she  might  hide, 
And  hurt  far  off,  unknown,  whomsoever  she  espied. 

He  entered  the  cottage  with  these  verses  in  his  memory. 
Poor  old  Janet,  bent  double  with  age,  and  bleared  with  peat' 
smoke,  was  tottering  about  the  hut  with  a  birch  broom,  mutter- 
ing to  herself  as  she  endeavored  to  make  her  hearth  and  flooi 
a  little  clean  for  the  reception  of  her  expected  guests.  Waver- 
ley's  step  made  her  start,  look  up,  and  fall  a-trembling,  sr 
much  had  her  nerves  been  on  the  rack  for  her  patron's  safety. 
With  difficulty  Waverley  made  her  comprehend  that  the  Baron, 
was  now  safe  from  personal  danger ;  and  when  her  mind  had 
admitted  that  jo3^ful  news,  it  was  equally  hard  to  make  her  be- 
lieve that  he  was  not  to  enter  again  upon  possession  of  his 
estate.  "  It  behoved  to  be,"  she  said,  "  he  wad  get  it  back 
again ;  naebody  wad  be  sae  gripple  as  to  tak  his  gear  after 


WAVERLMY.  ^Z-^ 

fhey  had  gi'en  him  a  pardon  j  and  for  that  Inch-Grabbit,  1 
could  whiles  wish  mysell  a  witch  for  his  sake,  if  I  werena 
feared  the  Enemy  wad  tak  me  at  my  word."  Waverley  then 
gave  her  some  money,  and  promised  that  her  fidelity  should 
be  rewarded.  "  How  can  I  be  rewarded,  sir,  sae  weel,  as 
just  to  see  my  aull  maister  and  Miss  Rose  come  back  and 
Lruik  their  ain  !  " 

Waverley  now  took  leave  of  Janet,  and  soon  stood  beneath 
the  Baron  s  Fatmos.  At  a  low  whistle,  he  observed  the  veteran 
peeping  out  to  reconnoitre,  like  an  old  badger  with  his  head 
crut  of  his  hole.  "  Ye  hae  come  rather  early,  my  good  lad," 
said  he,  descending  ;  "  I  question  if  the  red-coats  hae  beat  the 
tattoo  yet,  and  we're  not  safe  till  then." 

"  Good  news  cannot  be  told  too  soon,"  said  Waverley  ; 
and  with  infinite  joy  communicated  to  him  the  happy  tidings. 

The  old  man  stood  for  a  moment  in  silent  devotion,  then 
exclaimed,  "  Praise  be  to  God  ! — I  shall  see  my  bairn  again." 

"  And  never,  I  hope,  to  part  with  her  more,"  said  Waver 
ley. 

"  I  trust  in  God,  not,  unless  it  be  to  win  the  means  of  sup- 
porting her ;  for  my  things  are  but  in  a  bruckle  state  ; — but 
what  signifies  warld's  gear  ?  " 

"And  if,"  said  Waverley,  modestly,  "there  were  a  situa- 
tion in  life  which  would  put  Miss  Bradwardine  beyond  the  un- 
certainty of  fortune,  and  in  the  rank  to  which  she  was  born, 
would  you  object  to  it,  my  dear  Baron,  because  it  would  make 
one  of  your  friends  the  happiest  man  in  the  world  .-'  "  The 
Baron  turned,  and  looked  at  him  with  great  earnestness. 
"  Yes,"  continued  Edward,  "  I  shall  not  consider  my  sentence 
of  banishment  as  repealed,  unless  you  will  give  me  permission 
to  accompany  you  to  the  Duchran,  and " 

The  Baron  seemed  collecting  all  his  dignity  to  make  a  suit- 
able reply  to  what,  at  another  time,  he  would  have  treated  as 
the  propounding  a  treaty  of  alliance  between  the  house  of 
Bradwardine  and  Waverley.  But  his  efforts  were  in  vain  ;  the 
father  was  too  mighty  for  the  Baron  ;  the  pride  of  birth  and 
rank  were  swept  away  :  in  the  joyful  surprise,  a  slight  convul- 
sion passed  rapidly  over  his  features,  as  he  gave  way  to  the 
feelings  of  nature,  threw  his  arms  around  Waverley's  neck, 
and  sobbed  out, — "  My  son  !  my  son  ! — if  I  had  been  to  search 
the  world,  I  would  have  made  my  choice  here."  Edward  re- 
turned the  embrace  with  great  sympathy  of  feeling,  and  for  a 
little  while  they  both  kept  silence.  At  length  it  was  broken 
by  Edward.     "  But  Miss  Bradwardine  ?  " 


388  AVERLEY. 

"  She  had  never  a  will  but  her  old  father's  ;  besides,  yoU 
are  a  likely  youth,  of  honest  principles,  and  higii  birth  ;  no, 
she  never  had  any  other  will  than  mine,  and  in  my  proudest 
days  I  could  not  have  wished  a  mair  eligible  espousal  for  her 
than  the  nephew  of  my  excellent  old  friend,  Sir  Everard. — But 
I  hope,  young  man,  ye  deal  na  rashly  in  this  matter  ?  I  hope 
ye  hae  secured  the  approbation  of  your  ain  friends  and  allies, 
particularly  of  your  uncle,  who  is  in  loco  parentis  1  Ah  !  we 
maun  tak  heed  o'  that."  Edward  assured  him  that  Sir  Everard 
would  think  himself  highly  honored  in  the  flattering  reception 
his  proposal  had  met  with,  and  that  it  had  his  entire  approba 
tion  ;  in  evidence  of  which,  he  put  Colonel  Talbot's  letter  into 
the  IJaron's  hand.  The  Baron  read  it  with  great  attention. 
"  Sir  Everard,"  he  said,  "  always  despised  wealth  in  compari- 
Bon  of  honor  and  birth  ;  and  indeed  he  had  no  occasion  1,0 
court  the  Diva  Pecunia.  Yet  I  now  wish,  since  this  ]Malcolm 
turns  out  such  a  parricide,  for  I  can  call  him  no  better,  as  to 
think  of  alienating  the  family  inheritance — I  now  wish  (his 
eyes  fixed  on  a  part  of  the  roof  which  was  visible  above  the 
trees)  that  I  could  have  left  Rose  the  auld  hurley-house,  and 
the  riggs  belanging  to  it. — And  yet,"  said  he,  resuming  more 
cheerfully,  "  it's  maybe  as  weel  as  it  is  :  for,  as  Baron  of  Brad- 
wardine,  I  might  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  insist  upon  cer- 
tain compliances  respecting  name  and  bearings,  whilk  now,  as 
a  landless  laird  wi'  a  tocherless  daughter,  no  one  can  blame 
me  for  departing  from." 

"  Now,  Heaven  be  praised  I  "  thought  Edward,  "  that  Sir 
Everard  does  not  hear  these  scruples  ! — the  three  ermines 
passant  and  rampant  bear  would  certainly  have  gone  together 
by  the  ears."  He  then,  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  young  lover, 
assured  the  Baron,  that  he  sought  for  his  happiness  only  in 
Rose's  heart  and  hand,  and  thought  himself  as  happy  in  her 
father's  simple  approbation,  as  if  he  had  settled  an  earldom 
Upon  his  daughter. 

They  now  reached  Little  Veolan.  The  goose  was  smoking 
•on  the  table,  and  the  Bailie  brandished  his  knife  and  fork.     A 

J'oyous  greeting  took  place  between  him  and  his  patron.  The 
iitchen,  too,  had  its  company.  Auld  Janet  was  established  at 
the  ingle-nook  \  Davie  had  turned  the  spit  to  his  immortal 
ho«or  \  and  even  Ban  and  Buscar,  in  the  liberality  of  Mac 
wheeble's  joy,  had  been  stuffed  to  the  throat  with  food,  and 
now  lay  snoring  on  the  floor. 

The  next  day  conducted  the  Baron  and  !.;^  young  friend  to 
the  Duchran,  where  the  former  was  expected,  in  consequence 


WAVBRLEY.  38^ 

of  the  success  of  the  nearly  unanimous  application  of  the 
Scottish  friends  of  Government  in  his  favor.  This  had  been 
so  general  and  so  powerful  that  it  was  almost  thought  his  estate 
might  have  been  saved,  had  it  not  passed  into  the  rapacious 
hands  of  his  unworthy  kinsman,  whose  right,  arising  out  of  the 
Baron's  attainder,  could  not  be  affected  by  a  pardon  from  the 
crown.  The  old  gentleman,  however,  said,  with  his  usual 
spirit,  he  A^as  more  gratified  by  the  hold  he  possessed  in  the 
good  opinion  of  his  neighbors  than  he  would  have  been  in  be- 
ing "  rehabilitated  and  restored  in  integrum,  had  it  been  found 
practicable." 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  meeting  of  the  father 
and  daughter — loving  each  other  so  affectionately,  and  sepa- 
rated under  such  perilous  circumstances.  Still  less  shall  we 
attempt  to  analyze  the  deep  blush  of  Rose  at  receiving  the 
compliments  of  Waverley,  or  stop  to  inquire  whether  she  had 
any  curiosity  respecting  the  particular  cause  of  his  journey  to 
Scotland  at  that  period.  We  shall  not  even  trouble  the  reader 
with  the  humdrum  details  of  a  courtship  Sixty  Years  since.  It 
is  enough  to  say,  that  under  so  strict  a  martinet  as  the  Baron 
all  things  were  conducted  in  due  form.  He  took  upon  himself, 
the  morning  after  their  arrival,  the  task  of  announcing  the  pro- 
posal of  Waverley  to  Rose,  which  she  heard  with  a  proper 
degree  of  maiden  timidity.  Fame  does,  however,  say,  that  Wa- 
verley had,  the  evening  before,  found  five  minutes  to  apprise 
her  of  what  was  coming,  while  the  rest  of  the  company  were 
looking  at  three  twisted  serpents  which  formed  a  jet  d'eau  in 
the  garden. 

My  fair  readers  will  judge  for  themselves  ;  but,  for  my  part, 
I  cannot  conceive  how  so  important  an  affair  could  be  commu- 
nicated in  so  short  a  space  of  time  ;  at  least,  it  certainly  took  a 
full  hour  in  the  Baron's  mode  of  conveying  it. 

Waverley  was  now  considered  as  a  received  lover  in  all  the 
forms.  He  was  made,  by  dint  of  smiiking  and  nodding  on  the 
part  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  to  sit  next  to  Miss  Bradwardine 
at  dinner,  to  be  Miss  Bradwardine's  partner  at  cards.  If  he 
came  uito  the  room,  she  of  the  four  Miss  Rubricks  who  chanced 
to  be  next  Rose  was  sure  to  recollect  that  her  thimble,  or  her 
scissors,  were  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  in  order  to  leave 
the  seat  nearest  to  Miss  Bradwardine  vacant  for  his  occupation. 
And  sometimes,  if  papa  and  mamma  were  not  in  the  way  to 
keep  them  on  their  good  behavior,  the  Misses  would  titter  a 
little.  The  old  Laird  of  Duchran  would  also  have  his  occa- 
sional jest,  and  the  old  lady  her  remark.     Even  the  Baron  could 


300  WAVERLEY, 

i!»..-t  i'efrain  ;  but  here  Rose  escaped  every  embarrassment  but 
that  of  conjecture,  for  his  wit  was  usuall}^  couched  in  a  Latin 
quotation.  The  very  footmen  sometimes  grinned  too  broadly, 
tlie  n:aid-servants  giggled  mayhap  too  loud,  and  a  provoking 
air  of  intelligence  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  family.  Alice 
Bean,  the  pretty  maid  of  the  cavern,  who,  after  her  father's  mis- 
fonime,  as  she  ca. led  it,  had  attended  Rose  as  fille-de-chambre, 
smiled  and  smirked  with  the  best  of  them.  Rose  and  Edward, 
however,  endured  all  these  little  vexatious  circumstances  as 
other  folks  have  done  before  and  since,  and  probably  contrived 
to  obtain  some  indemnification,  since  they  are  not  supposed, 
on  the  whole,  to  have  been  particularly  unhappy  during  \Va- 
verley's  six  days'  stay  at  the  Duchran. 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  Edward  should  go  to  Waverley 
Honour  to  make  the  necessar}^  arrangements  for  his  marriage, 
thence  to  London  to  take  the  proper  measures  for  pleading  his 
pardon,  and  return  as  soon  as  possible  to  claim  the  hand  of  his 
plighted  bride.  He  also  intended  in  his  journey  to  visit  Col- 
onel Talbot ;  but  above  all,  it  was  his  most  important  object 
to  learn  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  Chief  of  Glennaquoich  ;  to 
visit  him  at  Carlisle,  and  to  try  whether  anything  could  be  done 
for  procuring,  if  not  a  pardon,  a  commutation  at  least,  or  alle- 
viation, of  the  punishment  to  which  he  was  almost  certain  of 
being  condemned  ;  and  in  case  of  the  worst,  to  offer  the  miser- 
able Flora  an  asylum  with  Rose,  or  otherwise  to  assist  her 
views  in  any  mode  which  might  seem  possible.  The  fate  of 
Fergus  seemed  hard  to  be  averted.  Edward  had  already  striven 
to  interest  his  friend  Colonel  Talbot  in  his  behalf ;  ])ut  had 
been  given  distinctly  to  understand,  by  his  reply,  that  h's  credit 
in  matters  of  that  nature  was  totally  exhausted. 

The  Colonel  was  still  in  Edinburgh,  and  proposed  to  w^ait 
there  for  some  months  upon  business  confided  to  him  by  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland.  He  was  to  be  joined  by  Lady  Emily, 
to  whom  easy  travelling  and  goat's  whey  were  recommended, 
and  who  was  to  journey  northward  under  the  escort  of  Francis 
Stanley.  Edward,  therefore,  met  the  Colonel  at  Edinburgh, 
who  wished  him  joy  in  the  kindest  manner  on  his  approaching 
happiness,  and  cheerfully  undertook  many  commissions  which 
our  hero  was  necessarily  obliged  to  delegate  to  his  charge. 
But  on  the  subject  of  Fergus  he  was  inexorable.  He  satisfied 
Edward,  indeed,  that  his  interference  w'ould  be  unavailing  \ 
but  besides.  Colonel  Talbot  owmed  that  he  could  not  conscien- 
tiously use  any  influence  in  favor  of  that  unfortunate  gentle* 
man.     "Justice,"  he  said,  "which  demanded  some  penalty  of 


WAVE/^LEY.  ^gi 

those  who  had  wrapped  the  whole  nation  in  fear  and  in  mourn- 
ing, could  not  perhaps  have  selected  a  fitter  victim.  He  came 
to  the  field  with  the  fullest  Hc^ht  upon  the  nature  of  his  attempt. 
He  had  studied  and  understood  the  subject.  His  father's  fate 
could  not  intimidate  him  :  the  lenity  of  the  laws  which  had 
restored  to  him  his  father's  property  and  rights  could  not  melt 
him.  That  he  was  brave,  generous,  and  possessed  many  good 
qualities,  only  rendered  him  the  more  dangerous  ;  that  he  was 
enlightened  and  accomplished  made  his  crime  the  less  excus- 
able ;  that  he  was  an  enthusiast  in  a  wrong  cause  only  made 
him  the  more  fit  to  be  its  martyr.  Above  all,  he  had  been  the 
means  of  bringing  many  hundreds  of  men  into  the  field  who, 
without  him,  would  never  have  broken  the  peace  of  the  country 

"  I  repeat  it,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  though  Heaven  knows 
with  a  heart  distressed  for  him  as  an  individual,  that  this  young 
gentleman  has  studied  and  fully  understood  the  desperate  game 
which  he  has  played.  He  threw  for  life  or  death,  a  coronet  or 
a  cofhn  ;  and  he  cannot  now  be  permitted,  with  justice  to  the 
country,  to  draw  stakes  because  the  dice  have  gone  against  him." 

Such  was  the  reasoning  of  those  times,  held  even  by  brave 
and  humane  men  towards  a  vanquished  enemy.  Let  us  devoutly 
hope  that,  in  this  respect  at  least,  we  shall  never  see  the  scenes, 
or  hold  the  sentiments,  that  were  general  in  Britain  Sixty 
Years  since. 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-EIGHTH. 

To-morrow  ?    Oh,  that's  sudden  !    Spare  him  !  spare  him  1 

Shakespeare. 

Edward,  attended  by  his  former  servant  Alick  Polwarth, 
who  had  re-entered  his  service  at  Edinburgh,  reached  Carlisle 
while  the  commission  of  Oyer  and  Terminer  on  his  unfortunate 
associates  was  yet  sitting.  He  had  pushed  forward  in  haste — 
not,  alas  !  with  the  most  distant  hope  of  saving  Fergus,  but  to 
see  him  for  the  last  time.  I  ought  to  have  mentioned  that  he 
had  furnished  funds  for  the  defence  of  the  prisoners  in  the 
most  liberal  manner,  as  soon  as  he  heard  that  the  day  of  trial 
was  fixed.  A  solicitor,  and  the  first  counsel,  accordingly 
attended  ;  but  it  was  upon  the  same  footing  on  which  the  first 
physicians  are  usually  summoned  to  the  bedside  of  some  during 


39* 


WAVEKLEY. 


man  of  rank  ; — the  doctors  to  take  the  advantage  of  some  inca* 
culable  chance  of  an  exertion  of  nature — the  lawyers  to  a\ail 
themselves  of  the  barely  possible  occurrence  of  some  legal  fiaw. 
Edward  pressed  into  the  court,  which  was  extremely  crowded  ; 
but  by  his  arriving  from  the  north,  and  his  extreme  eagerness  and 
agitation,  it  was  supposed  he  was  a  relation  of  the  prisoners, 
and  people  made  way  for  him.  It  was  the  third  sitting  of  the 
court,  and  there  were  two  men  at  the  bar.  The  verdict  of 
Guilty  was  already  pronounced.  Edward  just  glanced  at  the 
bar  during  the  momentous  pause  which  ensued.  There  was  no 
mistaking  the  stately  form  and  noble  features  of  Fergus  INIac- 
Ivor,  although  his  dress  was  squalid  and  his  countenance  tinged 
w^ith  the  sickly  yellow  hue  of  long  and  close  imprisonment.  By 
his  side  was  Evan  Maccombich.  Edward  felt  sick  and  dizzy 
as  he  gazed  on  them  ,  but  he  was  recalled  to  himself  as  the 
Clerk  of  the  Arraigns  pronounced  the  solemn  words  :  "  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor  of  Glennaquoich,  otherwise  called  Vich  Ian  Vohr, 
and  Evan  Mac-Ivor,  in  the  Dhu  of  Tarrascleugh,  otherwise 
called  Evan  Dhu,  otherwise  called  Evan  Maccombich,  or  Evan 
Dhu  Maccombich — you,  and  each  of  you,  stand  attainted  of 
high  treason.  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourselves  why  the 
Court  should  not  pronounce  judgment  against  you,  that  you 
die  according  to  law  ?  " 

Fergus,  as  the  presiding  Judge  was  putting  on  the  fatal  cap 
of  judgment,  placed  his  own  bonnet  upon  his  head,  regarded 
him  with  a  steadfast  and  stern  look,  and  replied  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  I  cannot  let  this  numerous  audience  suppose  that  to  such  an 
appeal  I  have  no  answer  to  make.  But  what  I  have  to  say,  you 
would  not  bear  to  hear,  for  my  defence  w^ould  be  }our  condem- 
nation. Froceed,  then,  in  the  name  of  God,  to  do  Viiiat  is  per- 
mitted to  you.  Yesterday,  and  the  day  before,  you  have 
condemned  loyal  and  honorable  blood  to  be  poured  forth  like 
water.  Spare  not  mine.  Were  that  of  all  my  ancestors  in  ni}. 
veins,  I  would  have  peril'd  it  in  this  quarrel.*'  He  resumed 
his  seat,  and  refused  again  to  rise. 

Evan  Maccombich  looked  at  him  with  great  earnestness, 
and,  rising  up,  seemed  anxious  to  speak ;  but  the  confusion  of 
the  court,  and  the  perplexity  arising  from  thmking  in  a  language 
different  from  that  in  which  he  was  to  express  himself,  kept 
him  silent.  There  was  a  murmur  of  compassion  among  the 
spectators,  from  an  idea  that  the  poor  fellow  intended  to  plead 
the  influence  of  his  superior  as  an  excuse  for  his  crime.  The 
Judge  commanded  silence,  and  encouraged  Evan  to  proceea. 

"  I  was  only  ganging  to  say,  my  Lord,"  &  \d  E  r>n,  'c    'b.-4 


IVAVERLEY. 


393 


he  meant  to  be  in  an  Insinuating  manner,  "  that  if  your  excel- 
lent honor,  and  the  honorable  Court,  would  let  Vich  Ian  Vohr 
go  free  just  this  once,  and  let  him  gae  back  to  France,  and  no 
to  trouble  King  George's  government  again,  that  ony  six  o'  the 
very  best  of  his  clan  will  be  willing  to  be  justified  in  his  stead  \ 
and  if  you'll  just  let  me  gae  down  to  Glennaquoich,  I'll  fetch 
them  up  to  ye  mysell,  to  head  or  hang,  and  you  may  begin  wi' 
me  the  very  first  man." 

Notwithstanding  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  a  sort  of 
laugh  was  heard  in  the  court  at  the  extraordinary  nature  of  the 
proposal.  The  Judge  checked  this  indecency,  and  Evan,  look- 
ing sternly  around,  when  the  murmur  abated,  "  If  the  Saxon 
gentlemen  are  laughing,"  he  said,  "because  a  poor  man,  such 
as  me,  thinks  my  life,  or  the  life  of  six  of  my  degree,  is  worth 
Lhi/  of  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  it's  like  enough  they  may  be  very  right ; 
bul  if  they  laugh  because  they  think  I  would  not  keep  my  word, 
and  come  back  to  redeem  him,  I  can  tell  them  they  ken  neither 
the  heart  of  a  Hielandman,  nor  the  honor  of  a  gentleman." 

There  was  no  further  inclination  to  laugh  among  the  audi- 
ence, and  a  dead  silence  ensued. 

The  Judge  then  pronounced  upon  both  prisoners  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law  of  high  treason,  with  all  its  horrible  accom- 
paniments. The  execution  was  appointed  for  the  ensuing  day. 
"  For  you,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor,"  added  the  Judge,  "  I  can  hold 
out  no  hope  of  mercy.  You  must  prepare  against  to-morrow 
for  your  last  sutterings  here,  and  your  great  audit  hereafter." 

''  I  desire  nothing  else,  my  lord,"  answered  Fergus,  in  the 
same  manly  and  firm  tone. 

The  hard  eyes  of  Evan,  which  had  been  perpetually  bent 
on  his  Chief,  were  moistened  with  a  tear.  "  For  you,  poor 
ignorant  man,"  continued  the  Judge,  "  who,  following  the  ideas 
in  which  you  have  been  educated,  have  this  day  given  us  a 
striking  example  how  the  loyalty  due  to  the  king  and  state 
alone,  is,  from  your  unhappy  ideas  of  clanship,  transferred  to 
some  ambitious  individual,  who  ends  by  making  you  the  tool  of 
his  crimes — for  you,  I  say,  I  feel  so  much  compassion,  that  if 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  petition  for  grace,  I  will  en- 
deavor to  procure  it  for  you.     Otherwise " 

"  Grace  me  no  grace,"  said  Evan  ;  "  since  you  are  to  shed 
Vich  Ian  Vohr's  blood,  the  only  favor  I  would  accept  from  you 
is — to  bid  them  loose  my  hancls  and  gie  me  my  claymore,  and 
bide  you  just  a  minute  sitting  where  you  arc  !  " 

"Remove  the  prir.oncrs,"  said  the  Judge ;  "his  blood  bf 
upon  his  own  Iiead." 


394 


tVAVERLEY. 


Almost  stupefied  with  his  feelings,  Edward  found  that  the 
rush  of  the  crowd  had  conveyed  him  out  into  the  street,  ere  he 
knew  what  he  was  doing. — His  immediate  wish  was  to  see  and 
speak  with  Fergus  once  more.  He  applied  at  the  Cattle,  where 
his  unfortunate  friend  was  confined,  but  was  refused  admit- 
tance. "The  High  Sheriff,"  a  non-commissioned  officer  said, 
"  had  requested  of  the  governor  that  none  should  be  admitted 
to  see  the  prisoner  excepting  his  confessor  and  his  sister." 

"And  where  was  Miss  Mac-Ivor?"  They  gave  him  the 
direction.  It  was  the  house  of  a  respectable  Catholic  family 
near  Carlisle. 

Repulsed  from  the  gate  of  the  Castle,  and  not  venturing  to 
make  application  to  the  High  Sheriff  or  Judges  in  his  own  un- 
popular name,  he  had  recourse  to  the  solicitor  who  came  down 
in  Fergus's  behalf.  This  gentleman  told  him,  that  it  was 
thought  the  public  mind  was  in  danger  of  being  debauched  by 
the  account  of  the  last  moments  of  these  persons,  as  gi\'en  by 
the  friends  of  the  Pretender  ;  that  there  had  been  a  resolution, 
therefore,  to  exclude  all  such  persons  as  had  not  the  plea  of 
near  kindred  for  attending  u-pow  them.  Yet  he  promised  (to 
oblige  the  heir  of  Waverley-Honour)  to  get  him  an  order  for 
admittance  to  the  prisoner  the  next  morning,  before  his  irons 
were  knocked  off  for  execution. 

"  Is  it  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  they  speak  thus,"  thought  Wa- 
verley,  "  or  do  I  dream  ?  of  Fergus,  the  bold,  the  chivalrous, 
the  free-minded — the  lofty  chieftain  of  a  tribe  devoted  to  him? 
Is  it  he,  that  I  have  seen  lead  the  chase  and  head  the  attack, 
— the  brave,  the  active,  the  young,  the  noble,  the  love  of  ladies, 
and  the  theme  of  song — is  it  he  who  is  ironed  like  a  malefactor 
— who  is  to  be  dragged  on  a  hurdle  to  the  common  gallows — ■ 
to  die  a  lingering  and  cruel  death,  and  to  be  mangled  by  the 
hand  of  the  most  outcast  of  wretches  ?  Evil  indeed  was  the 
spectre  that  boded  such  a  fate  as  this  to  the  brave  Chief  of 
Glennaquoich  !  " 

With  a  faltering  voice  he  requested  the  solicitor  to  find 
means  to  warn  Fergus  of  his  intended  visit,  should  he  obtain 
permission  to  make  it.  He  then  turned  away  from  him,  and, 
returning  to  the  inn,  wrote  a  scarcely  intelligible  note  tc  Flora 
Mac-Ivor,  intimating  his  purojse  to  wait  upon  her  that  even- 
ing. The  'Tiesserg3r  brof-.^^ht  back  a  letter  in  Flora's  beautiful 
Italian  haa;',  which  see  "i:  '^ci'TC.  t  tremble  even  u  "ider  tni^ 
load  of  misery.  "  Miss  Ylryn  Mac-Ivor,"  the  letter  bore, 
*'  could  not  refuse  to  see  the  d,  arest  friend  of  her  dear  brotheii 
f  vcn  in  her  present  circumstances  of  unparalleled  distress." 


WAVER  LEY. 


39S 


When  Edward  reached  Miss  Mac-Ivor's  present  place  of 
abode,  he  was  instantly  admitted.  In  a  large  and  gloomy 
tapestried  apartment,  Flora  was  seated  by  a  latticed  window, 
sewing  what  seemed  to  be  a  garment  of  white  flannel.  At  a 
little  distance  sat  an  elderley  woman,  apparently  a  foreigner, 
and  of  a  religious  order.  She  was  reading  in  a  book  of  Catho- 
lic devotion  ;  but  when  Waverley  entered,  laid  it  on  the  table 
and  left  the  room.  Flora  rose  to  receive  him,  and  stretched 
out  her  hand,  but  neither  ventured  to  attempt  speech.  Her 
fine  complexion  was  totally  gone  ;  her  person  considerably 
emaciated  ;  and  her  face  and  hands  as  white  as  the  purest 
statuary  marble,  forming  a  strong  contrast  with  her  sable  dress 
and  jet-black  hair.  Yet,  amid  these  marks  of  distress,  there 
was  nothing  negligent  or  ill-arranged  about  her  attire  ;  even 
her  hair,  though  totally  without  ornament,  was  disposed  with 
her  usual  attention  to  neatness.  The  first  words  she  uttered 
were,  "  Have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no,"  answered  Waverley  ;  "  I  have  been  refused 
admittance." 

"  It  accords  with  the  rest,"  she  said;  "  but  we  must  submit. 
Shall  you  obtain  leave,  do  you  supiDose .-'  " 

"For — for — to-morrow,"  said  Waverley;  but  muttering  tb.e 
last  word  so  faintly  that  it  was  almost  unintelligible. 

"  Av,  then  or  never,"  said  Flora,  "  until  " — she  added,  look- 
ing upward,  "  the  time  when,  I  trust,  we  shall  all  meet.  But  I 
hope  you  will  see  him  while  earth  yet  bears  him.  He  always 
loved  you  at  his  heart,  though — but  it  is  vain  to  talk  of  the 
past." 

"  Vain  indeed  !  "  echoed  Waverley. 

"  Or  even  of  the  future,  my  good  friend,"  said  Flora  "so 
far  as  earthly  events  are  concerned  ;  for  how  often  have  I 
pictured  to  mvself  the  strong  possibility  of  this  horrid  issue^ 
and  tasked  myself  to  consider  how  1  could  support  my  part  • 
and  yet  how  far  has  all  my  anticipation  fallen  short  of  the  un 
imarinable  bitterness  of  this  hour  !  " 

"  Dear  Flora,  if  your  strength  of  mind  — —" 

"  Ay,  there  it  is,"  she  answered,  somewhat  wildly  ;  "  there 
is,  Mr.  Waverley,  there  is  a  busy  devil  at  my  heart  that  whis- 
pers— but  it  were  madness  to  listen  to  it— -that  the  strength 
of  mind  on  which  Flora  prided  herself  has  murdered  hot 
brother! " 

"  Good  God  !  how  can  you  give  utterance  to  thought  so 
shocking .? " 

"Ay,  is  it  not  so  ? — but  yet  it  haunts  me  like  a  phantom  • 


396  WAVERLEY. 

know  it  is  unsubstantial  and  vain  •  but  it  7C'///he  present — wit. 
intrude  its  horrors  on  my  mind — will  whisper  that  my  brothei 
as  volatile  as  ardent,  would  have  divided  his  energies  amid  a 
hundred  objects.  It  was  I  who  taught  him  to  concentrate 
them,  and  to  gage  all  on  this  dreadful  and  desperate  cast.  Oh 
that  I  could  recollect  that  I  had  but  once  said  to  him,  '  He 
that  striketh  with  the  sword  shall  die  by  the  sword  ; '  that  I 
had  but  once  said,  Remain  at  home ;  reserv  e  yourself,  your 
vassals,  your  life,  for  enterprises  within  the  reach  of  man.  But 
oh,  Mr.  Waverley,  I  spurred  his  fiery  temper,  and  half  of  his 
ruin  at  least  lies  with  his  sister^?  " 

The  horrid  idea  which  she  had  intimated  Edward  en- 
deavored to  combat  by  every  incoherent  argument  that  oc- 
curred to  him.  He  recalled  to  her  the  principles  on  whicn 
both  thougni  it  their  duty  to  act,  and  in  which  they  had  been 
educated. 

"  Do  not  rhink  I  have  forgotten  them,"  she  said,  looking 
up,  with  eager  quickness  ;  "  I  do  not  regret  his  attempt  !  - 
cause  it  was  wrong — oh  no  !  on  that  point  I  am  armed — uut 
because  it  was  impossible  it  could  end  otherwise  than  thus.*" 

"  Yet  it  did  not  always  seem  so  desperate  and  hazardous  as 
it  was  ;  and  it  would  have  been  chosen  by  the  bold  spirit  ot 
Fergus  whether  you  had  approved  it  or  no  ;  your  counsels 
only  served  to  give  unity  and  consistence  to  his  conduct ;  to 
dignify,  but  not  to  precipitate,  his  resolution."  Flora  had  soon 
ceased  to  listen  to  Edward,  and  was  again  intent  upon  her 
needle-work. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  looking  up  with  a  ghastly 
smile,  "  you  once  found  me  making  Fergus's  bride-favors,  and 
now  I  am  sewing  his  bridal-garment.  Our  friends  here,"  she 
continued,  with  suppressed  emotion,  "  are  to  give  hallowed 
earth  in  their  chapel  to  the  bloody  relics  of  the  last  Vich  Ian 
Vohr.  But  they  will  not  all  rest  together  ;  no — his  head  ! — I 
shall  not  have  the  last  miserable  consolation  of  kissing  the 
cold  lips  of  my  dear,  dear  Fergus  !  " 

The  unfortunate  Flora  here,  after  one  or  two  hj'sterical 
sobs,  fainted  in  her  chair.  The  lady,  who  had  been  attending 
in  the  ante-room,  now  entered  hastily,  and  begged  Edward  to 
leave  the  room,  but  not  the  house. 

When  he  was  recalled,  after  the  space  of  nearly  half  an 
hour,  he  found  that,  by  a  strong  effort  Miss  Mac-Ivor  had 
greatly  composed  herself.  It  was  then  he  ventured  to  urge 
Miss  Bradwardine's  claim  to  be  considered  as  an  adopted  sistei^ 
and  empowered  to  assist  her  ijlans  for  the  future. 


WAVERLEY. 


397 


*'  I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  dear  Rose,"  she  replied,  "  to 
ihe  same  purpose.  Sorrow  is  selfish  and  engrossing,  or  I  would 
have  written  to  express  that,  even  in  my  own  despair,  I  felt  a 
gleam  of  pleasure  at  learning  her  happy  prospects,  and  at  hear- 
ing that  the  good  old  Baron  has  escaped  the  general  wreck. 
Give  this  to  my  dearest  Rose  ;  it  is  her  poor  Flora's  only  orna- 
ment of  value,  and  was  the  gift  of  a  princess."  She  put  into 
his  hands  a  case  containing  the  chain  of  diamonds  with  which 
she  used  to  decorate  her  hair.  "  To  me  ft  is  in  future  useless 
The  kindness  of  my  friends  has  secured  me  a  retreat  in  the 
convent  of  the  Scottish  Benedictine  nuns  in  Paris.  To-morrow 
— if  indeed  I  can  survive  to-morrow — I  set  forward  on  my 
journey  with  this  venerable  sister.  And  now,  Mr.  Waverley, 
adieu  !  May  you  be  as  happy  with  Rose  as  your  amiable  dis- 
positions deserve  ! — and  think  sometimes  on  the  friends  you 
have  lost.  Do  not  attempt  to  see  me  again  !  it  would  be  mis- 
taken kindness." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  on  which  Edward  shed  a  torrent  of 
/ears,  and,  with  a  faltering  step,  withdrew  from  the  apartment, 
and  returned  to  the  town  of  Carlisle.  At  the  inn  he  found  a 
letter  from  his  law  friend,  intimating  that  he  would  be  admitted 
to  Fergus  next  morning  as  soon  as  the  Castle  gates  were  opened, 
and  permitted  to  remain  with  him  till  the  arrival  of  the  Sheriff 
gave  signal  for  the  fatal  procession. 


CHAPTER  SIXTY-NINTH 

——.A  darker  departure  is  near, 
The  death-drum  is  muffled,  and  sable  the  bier. 

Campbell. 


After  a  sleepless  night,  the  first  dawn  of  morning  found 
Waverley  on  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  old  Gothic  gate  of 
Carlisle  Castle.  But  he  paced  it  long  in  every  direction  before 
the  hour  when,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  garrison,  the  gates 
were  opened  and  the  drawbridge  lowered.  He  produced  his 
order  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard,  and  v^ras  admitted. 

The  place  of  Fergus's  confinement  was  a  gloomy  and  vaulted 
apartment  in  the  central  part  of  the  Castle — a  huge  old  tower, 
supposed  to  be  of  great  antiquity,  and  surrounded  by  outworks, 
seemingly  of  Henry  VIII.'s  time,  or  soniewhat  later.  The  grat* 
ing  of  the  large  old-fashioned  bars  and  bolts,  withdrawn  for  the 


59^  WAVER  LEY. 

purpose  oT  acTmTtffng  Edward,  was  answered  \>y  the  clash  of 
chains,  as  the  untortunate  Chieftain,  strongly  and  heavily  fet- 
tered, shuffled  along  the  stone  floor  of  his  prison  to  fling  him- 
self into  his  friend's  arms. 

*  My  dear  Edward,"  he  said,  in  a  firm,  and  even  cheerful 
voice,  '^  this  is  truly  kind.  I  heard  of  your  approaching  happi- 
ness with  the  highest  pleasure.  And  how  does  Rose  ?  and  how 
is  our  old  whimsical  friend  the  Baron  1  Well,  I  trust,  since  I 
see  you  at  freedom. —  And  how  will  you  settle  precedence 
between  the  three  ermines  passant  and  the  bear  and  boot- 
jack ?  ' 

"  How,  O  how,  my  dear  Fergus,  can  you  talk  of  such  things 
at  such  a  moment !  " 

"  Why,  we  have  entered  Carlisle  with  happier  auspices,  to 
be  sure — on  the  i6th  of  November  last,  for  example,  when  we 
marched  in,  side  by  side,  and  hoisted  the  white  flag  on  these 
ancient  towers.  But  I  am  no  boy,  to  sit  down  and  weep  be- 
cause the  luck  has  gone  against  me.  I  knew  the  stake  which  I 
risked  ;  we  played  the  game  boldly,  and  the  forfeit  shall  be  paid 
manfully.  And  now,  since  my  time  is  short,  let  me  come  to  the 
questions  that  interest  me  most — The  Prince  ?  has  he  escaped 
the  blood-hounds  ?  " 

"  He  has,  and  is  in  safety." 

"  Praised  be  God  for  that !  Tell  me  the  particulars  of  his 
escape." 

Waverley  communicated  that  remarkable  history  so  far  as 
it  had  then  transpired,  to  which  Fergus  listened  with  deep  in- 
terest. He  then  asked  after  several  other  friends  ;  and  made 
many  minute  inquiries  concerning  the  fate  of  his  own  clansmen. 
They  had  suffered  less  than  other  tribes  who  had  been  engaged 
in  the  affair ;  for,  having  in  a  great  measure  dispersed  and  re- 
turned home  after  the  captivity  of  their  Chieftain,  according  to 
the  universal  custom  of  the  Highlanders,  they  were  not  in  arms 
when  the  insurrection  was  finally  suppressed,  and  consequently 
were  treated  with  less  rigor.  This  Fergus  heard  with  great 
satisfaction. 

"  You  are  rich,"  he  said,  "Waverley,  and  you  are  generous. 
When  you  hear  of  these  poor  Mac-Ivors  being  distressed  about 
their  miserable  possessions  by  some  harsh  overseer  or  agent  of 
government,  remember  you  have  worn  their  tartan,  and  are  an 
adopted  son  of  their  race.  The  Baron,  who  knows  our  manners, 
and  lives  near  our  country,  will  apprise  you  of  the  time  and 
means  to  be  their  protector.  Will  you  promise  this  to  the  las* 
Vichlan  Vohr?'* 


IVAVEHLEy.  35^ 

Edward,  as  may  well  be  believed,  pledged  his  word  ;  which 
fte  afterwards  so  amply  redeemed,  that  his  memory  stiii  lives  in 
these  glens  by  the  name  of  the  Friend  of  the  Sons  of  Ivor. 

"  Would  to  God,"  continued  the  Chieftain,  "  I  could  be- 
queath to  you  my  rights  to  the  love  and  obedience  of  this  prim- 
itive and  brave  race  : — or  at  least,  as  1  have  striven  to  do,  per- 
suade poor  Evan  to  accept  of  his  life  upon  their  terms,  and  be 
to  you  what  he  has  been  to  me,  the  kindest — the  bravest — the 
most  devoted " 

The  tears  which  his  own  fate  could  not  draw  forth,  fell  fast 
for  that  of  his  foster-brother. 

"  But,"  said  he,  drying  them,  "  that  cannot  be.     You  cannot 
be   to  them  Vich  Ian   Vohr  ;  and  these  three   magic   words," 
said  he,  half  smiling,  "  are  the  only  Open  Sesame  to  their  teel 
ings  and  sympathies,  and  poor  Evan  must  attend  his  fostei 
brother  in  death,  as  he  has  done  through  his  whole  life." 

"And  I  am  sure,"  said  Maccombich,  raising  himself  from  the 
floor,  on  which,  for  fear  of  interrupting  tlieir  conversation,  he 
had  lain  so  still,  that  in  the  obscurity  of  the  apartment  Edward 
was  not  aware  of  his  presence  —  "I  am  sure  Evan  never 
desired  or  deserved  a  better  end  than  just  to  die  with  his  Chief- 
tain." 

"  And  now,"  said  Fergus,  "  while  we  are  upon  the  subject 
of  clanship — what  think  you  now  of  the  prediction  of  the  Bodach 
Glas  .''  " — Then,  before  Edward  could  answer,  "  I  saw  him  again 
last  night — he  stood  in  the  slip  of  moonshine  which  fell  from 
that  high  and  narrow  window  towards  my  bed.  Why  should  I 
fear  him,  I  thought — to-morrow,  long  ere  this  time,  I  shall  be 
as  immaterial  as  he.  '  False  Spirit  1 '  I  said,  '  art  thou  come 
to  close  thy  walk  on  earth,  and  to  enjoy  thy  triumph  in  the  fall 
of  the  last  descendant  of  thine  enemy  ! '  The  spectre  seemed 
to  beckon  and  to  smile  as  he  faded  from  my  sight.  What  do 
you  think  of  it  ? — I  asked  the  same  question  of  the  priest,  who 
is  a  good  and  sensible  man ;  he  admitted  that  the  church  al- 
lowed that  such  apparitions  were  possible,  but  urged  me  not  to 
permit  my  mind  to  dwell  upon  it,  as  imagination  plays  us  such 
strange  tricks.     What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Much  as  your  confessor,"  said  Waverley,  willing  to  avoid 
dispute  upon  such  a  point  at  such  a  moment.  A  tap  at  the 
door  now  announced  that  good  man,  and  Edward  retired  while 
he  administered  to  both  prisoners  the  last  rites  of  religion,  in 
the  mode  which  the  Church  of  Rome  prescribes. 

In  about  an  hour  he  was  re-admitted  :  soon  after,  a  file  of 
soldiers  entered  with  a  blacksmith,  who  struck  the  fetters  from 
the  legs  of  the  prisoners. 


400  IVAVEJiLEY. 

*'  You  see  the  compliment  they  pay  to  our  Highland  strength 
And  courage — we  have  lain  chained  here  like  wild  beasts,  till 
our  legs  are  cramped  into  palsy,  and  when  they  free  us,  they 
send  six  soldiers  with  loaded  muskets  to  prevent  our  taking  the 
castle  by  storm  !  " 

Edward  afterwards  learned  that  these  severe  precautions 
had  been  taken  in  consequence  of  a  desperate  attempt  of  the 
prisoners  to  escape,  in  wliich  they  had  very  nearly  succeeded. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  drums  of  the  garrison  beat  to  arms. 
"  Tliisis  the  last  turn-out,"  said  Fergus,  "  that  I  shall  hear  and 
obey.  And  now,  my  dear,  dear  Edward,  ere  we  part  let  us 
speak  of  Flora — a  subject  which  awakes  the  tenderest  feeling 
that  yet  thrills  within  me." 

"  We  part  not  here!  "  said  Waverley. 

"  O  yes,  we  do  ;  you  must  come  no  farther.  Not  that  I  fear 
what  is  to  follow  for  myself,"  he  said  proudly  :  "  Nature  has 
her  tortures  as  well  as  art ;  and  how  happy  should  we  think 
the  man  who  escapes  from  the  throes  of  a  mortal  and  painful 
disorder,  in  the  space  of  a  short  half  hour  ?  And  this  matter, 
spin  it  out  as  they  will,  cannot  last  longer.  But  what  a  dying 
man  can  suffer  firmly,  may  kill  a  living  friend  to  look  upon. — 
This  same  law  of  high  treason,"  he  continued,  with  astonishing 
firmness  and  composure,  "  is  one  of  the  blessings,  Edward,  with 
which  your  free  country  has  accommodated  poor  old  Scotland  : 
her  own  jurisprudence,  as  I  have  heard,  was  much  milder.  But 
I  suppose  one  day  or  other — when  there  are  no  longer  any 
wild  Highlanders  to  benefit  by  its  tender  mercies — they  will 
blot  it  from  their  records,  as  levelling  them  with  a  nation  of 
cannibals.  The  mummery,  too,  o^  exposing  the  senseless  head 
■ — they  have  not  the  wit  to  grace  mine  with  a  paper  coronet ; 
there  would  be  some  satire  in  that,  Edward.  I  hope  they  will 
set  it  on  the  Scotch  gate  though,  that  I  may  look,  even  after 
death,  to  the  blue  hills  of  my  own  country,  which  I  love  so 
dearly.     The  Baron  wohld  have  added, 

Moritur,  et  moriens  dulces,  reminiscitur  Argos." 

A  bustle,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  and  horses'  feet,  was 
now  heard  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Castle.  "  As  I  have  told 
you  why  you  must  not  follow  me,  and  these  sounds  admonish 
me  that  my  time  flies  fast,  tell  me  how  you  found  poor  Flora  ?  " 

Waverle)^  with  a  voice  interrupted  by  suffocating  sensation, 
gave  some  account  of  the  state  of  her  mind. 

"  Poor  Flora  !  "  answered  the  Chief,  "  She  could  have  borne 
her  own  sentence  of  death,  but  not  mine.     You,  Waverley,  wiH 


kVAVERLEY. 


40t 


soon  know  the  hapj/niess  of  mutual  affection  in  the  married 
state — long,  long,  may  Rose  and  you  enjoy  it  1 — but  you  can 
never  know  the  purity  of  feeling  which  combines  two  orphans, 
Hke  Flora  and  me,  left  alone  as  it  were  in  the  world,  and  being 
all  ir.  all  to  each  other  from  our  very  infancy.  But  her  strong 
sense  of  duty,  and  predominant  feeling  of  loyalty,  will  give  new 
nerve  :o  her  mind  after  the  immediate  and  acute  sensation  of 
this  parting  has  passed  away.  She  will  then  think  of  Fergus 
as  of  the  heroes  of  our  race,  upon  whose  deeds  she  loved  to 
dwell." 

"  Shall  she  not  see  you,  then  t  "  asked  Waverley.  *'  She 
seemed  to  expect  it." 

"  A  necessary  deceit  will  spare  her  the  last  dreadful  parting. 
I  could  not  part  with  her  without  tears,  and  I  cannot  bear  that 
these  men  should  think  they  have  power  to  extort  them.  She 
was  made  to  believe  she  would  see  me  at  a  later  hour,  and 
this  letter,  which  my  confessor  will  deliver,  will  apprise  her 
that  all  is  over." 

An  officer  now  appeared,  and  intimated  that  the  High 
Sheriff  and  his  attendants  waited  before  the  gate  of  the  Castle, 
to  claim  the  bodies  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  and  Evan  Maccombicb. 
"I  come,"  said  Fergus.  Accordingly,  supporting  Edward  by 
the  arm,  and  followed  by  Evan  Dhu  and  the  priest,  he  moved 
down  the  stairs  of  the  tower,  the  soldiers  bringing  ujd  the  rear. 
The  court  was  occupied  by  a  squadron  of  dragoons  and  a  bat- 
talion of  infantry,  drawn  up  in  hollow  square.  Within  their 
ranks  was  the  sledge,  or  hurdle,  on  which  the  prisoners  were  to 
be  drawn  to  the  place  of  execution,  about  a  mile  distant  from 
Carlisle.  It  was  painted  black,  and  drawn  by  a  white  horse. 
At  one  end  of  the  vehicle  sat  the  Executioner,  a  horrid-looking 
fellow,  as  beseemed  his  trade,  with  the  broad  axe  in  his  hand  ; 
at  the  other  end,  next  the  horse,  was  an  empty  seat  for  two 
persons.  Through  the  deep  and  dark  Gothic  archway,  that 
opened  on  the  drawbridge,  were  seen  on  horseback  the  High 
Sheriff  and  his  attendants,  whom  the  etiquette  betwixt  the 
civil  and  military  powers  did  not  permit  to  come  farther. 
"  This  is  well  got  up  for  a  closing  scene,"  said  Fergus,  smiling 
disdainfully  as  he  gazed  around  upon  the  apparatus  of  terror. 
Evan  Dhu  exclaimed  with  some  eagerness,  after  looking  at  the 
dragoons,  "  These  are  the  very  chields  that  galloped  off  at 
Gladsmuir,  before  we  could  kill  a  dozen  o'  them.  They  look 
bold  enough  now,  however."  I'he  priest  entreated  him  to  be 
silent. 

The   sledge  now  approached  and  Fergus  turning  round, 

«6 


402  PVAVERLEY. 

embraced  Waverley,  kissed  him  on  each  side  of  the  face,  and 
stepped  nimbly  into  his  place.  Evan  sat  down  by  his  side. 
The  priest  was  to  follow  in  a  carriage  belonging  to  his  patron, 
the  Catholic  gentleman  at  whose  house  Flora  resided.  As 
Fergus  waved  his  hand  to  Edward,  the  ranks  closed  around 
the  sledge,  and  the  whole  procession  began  to  move  forward. 
There  was  a  momentary  stop  at  the  gateway,  while  the  governor 
of  the  Castle  and  the  High  Sheriff  went  through  a  short  cere- 
mony, the  military  officer  there  delivering  over  the  persons  of 
the  criminals  to  the  civil  power.  "  God  save  King  George !  " 
said  the  High  Sheriff.  When  the  formality  concluded,  Fergus 
stood  erect  in  the  sledge,  and  with  a  firm  and  steady  voice, 
replied,  "God  save  King  james .'^^  These  were  the  last  words 
which  Waverley  heard  him  speak. 

The  procession  resumed  its  march,  and  the  sledge  vanished 
from  beneath  the  portal,  under  which  it  had  stopped  for  an 
instant.  The  dead  march  was  then  heard,  and  its  melancholy 
sounds  were  mingled  with  those  of  a  muffled  peal,  tolled  from 
the  neighboring  cathedral.  The  sound  of  the  militar)'  music 
died  away  as  the  procession  moved  on — the  sullen  clang  of  the 
bells  was  soon  heard  to  sound  alone. 

The  last  of  the  soldiers  had  now  disappeared  from  under 
the  vaulted  archway  through  which  they  had  been  filing  for 
several  minutes  ;  the  court-yard  was  now  totally  empty,  but 
Waverley  stood  still  there  as  if  stupefied,  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  dark  pass  where  he  had  so  lately  seen  the  last  glimpse  of 
his  friend.  At  length,  a  female  servant  of  the  governor's,  struck 
with  compassion  at  the  stupefied  misery  which  his  countenance 
expressed,  asked  him  if  he  would  not  walk  into  her  master's 
house  and  sit  down  ?  She  was  obliged  to  repeat  her  question 
twice  ere  he  comprehended  her,  but  at  length  it  recalled  him 
to  himself.  Declining  the  courtesy  by  a  hasty  gesture,  he 
pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  leaving  the  Castle,  walked  as 
swiftly  as  he  could  through  the  empty  streets,  till  he  regained 
his  inn,  then  rushed  into  an  apartment,  and  bolted  the  door. 

In  about  an  hour  and  a  half,  which  seemed  an  age  of  un- 
utterable suspense,  the  sound  of  the  dnams  and  fifes,  perform- 
ing a  lively  air,  and  the  confused  murmur  of  the  crowd  which 
now  filled  the  streets,  so  lately  deserted,  apprised  him  that  all 
was  finished,  and  that  the  militarj^  and  populace  were  returning 
from  the  dreadtul  scene.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  hia 
sensations. 

In  the  evening  the  priest  made  him  a  visit,  and  informed 
him  that  he  did  so  by  directions  of  his  deceased  friend,  to  a* 


WAVER  LEY.  403 

sure  him  that  Fergus  Mac-Ivor  had  died  as  he  lived,  and  re- 
membered his  friendship  to  the  last.  He  added,  he  had  also 
seen  Flora,  whose  state  of  mind  seemed  more  composed  since 
all  was  over.  With  her,  and  sister  Theresa,  the  priest  proposed 
next  day  to  leave  Carlisle,  for  the  nearest  seaport  from  which 
they  could  embark  for  France.  Waverley  forced  on  this  good 
man  a  ring  of  some  value,  and  a  sum  of  money  to  be  employed 
(as  he  thought  might  gratify  Flora)  in  the  services  of  the 
Catholic  church,  for  the  memory  of  his  friend.  '■'' FungarqtU 
itiani  munere"  he  repeated,  as  the  ecclesiastic  retired.  "  Yet 
why  not  class  these  acts  of  remembrance  with  other  honors, 
with  which  affection,  in  all  sects,  pursues  the  memory  of  the 
dead  ? " 

The  next  morning,  ere  day-light,  he  took  leave  of  the  town 
of  Carlisle,  promising  to  himself  never  again  to  enter  its  walls. 
He  dared  hardly  look  back  towards  the  Gothic  battlements  of 
the  fortified  gate  under  which  he  passed  (for  the  place  is  sur- 
rounded with  an  old  wall).  "They're  no  there,"  said  Alick 
Polwarth,  who  guessed  the  cause  of  the  dubious  look  which 
Waverley  cast  backward,  and  who,  with  t!x>  vulgar  appetite  fol 
the  horrible,  was  master  of  each  detail  of  the  butcher — "  the 
heads  are  ower  the  Scotch  yate,  as  they  ca'  it.  It's  a  great 
pity  of  Evan  Dhu,  who  was  a  very  weel-meaning,  good-natured 
man,  to  be  a  Hielandman  ;  and  indeed  so  was  the  Laird  o' 
Glennaquoich  too,  for  that  matter,  when  he  wasna  m  ane  o' 
\iis  tirrivics." 


CHAPTER  SEVENTIETH. 

DUCLE   DOMUM. 


The  impression  of  horror  with  which  Waverley  left  Carlisle 
softened  by  degrees  into  melancholy — a  gradation  which  was 
accelerated  by  the  painful,  yet  soothing  task  of  writing  to  Rose ; 
and,  while  he  could  not  suppress  his  own  feelings  of  the  calam 
ity,  he  endeavored  to  place  it  in  a  light  which  mifj;lit  grieve 
her  without  shocking  her  imagination.  The  picture  vMch  he 
drew  for  her  benefit  lie  gradually  familarized  to  his  own  mind  ; 
and  his  next  letters  were  more  cheerful,  and  referred  to  the 
prospects  of  peace  and  happiness  which  lay  before  them.  Yet, 
♦hough  his  first  horrible  sensations  had  sunk  into  melancholVj 


404 


WAVER  LEY. 


Edward  had  reached  his  native  country  before  he  could,  as 
Usual  on  former  occasions,  look  round  for  enjoyment  upon  the 
face  of  nature. 

He  then,  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Edinburgh,  began 
to  experience  that  pleasure  which  almost  all  feel  who  return  to 
a  verdant,  populous,  and  highly  cultivated  country,  from  scenes 
of  waste  desolation,  or  of  solitary  and  melancholy  grandeur. 
But  how  were  those  feelings  enhanced  when  he  entered  on  the 
domain  so  long  possessed  by  his  forefathers ;  recognized  the 
old  oaks  of  Waverley-Chase  ;  thought  with  what  delight  he 
should  introduce  Rose  to  all  his  favorite  haunts  ;  beheld  at 
length  the  towers  of  the  venerable  hall  arise  above  the  woods 
which  embowered  it,  and  finally  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
the  venerable  relations  to  whom  he  owed  so  much  duty  and 
affection  ! 

The  happiness  of  their  meeting  was  not  tarnished  by  a 
single  word  of  reproach.  On  the  contrary,  whatever  pain  Sir 
Everard  and  Mrs.  Rachel  had  felt  during  Waverley's  perilous 
engagement  with  the  young  Chevalier,  it  assorted  too  well  with 
the  principles  in  which  they  had  been  brought  up,  to  incur 
reprobation,  or  even  censure.  Colonel  Talbot  also  had 
smoothed  the  way,  with  great  address,  for  Edward's  favorable 
reception,  by  dwelling  upon  his  gallant  behavior  in  the  military 
character,  particularly  his  bravery  and  generosity  at  Preston  ; 
until,  warmed  at  the  idea  of  their  nephew's  engaging  in  single 
combat,  making  prisoner,  and  saving  from  slaughter  so  distin- 
guished an  officer  as  the  Colonel  himself,  the  imagination  of 
the  Baronet  and  his  sister  ranked  the  exploits  of  Edward 
with  those  of  Wilibert,  Hildebrand,  and  Nigel,  the  vaunted 
heroes  of  their  line. 

The  appearance  of  Waverley,  embrowned  by  exercise,  and 
dignified  by  the  habits  of  military  c'iscipline,  had  acquired  an 
athletic  and  hardy  character,  which  not  only  verified  the  Col- 
onel's narration,  but  surprised  and  delighted  all  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Waverley-Honour.  They  crowded  to  see,  to  hear  him, 
and  to  sing  his  praises.  Mr.  Pembroke,  who  secretly  extolled 
his  spirit  and  courage  in  embracing  the  genuine  cause  of  the 
Church  of  England,  censured  his  pupil  gently,  nevertheless, 
for  being  so  careless  of  his  manuscripts,  which  indeed,  he  said, 
had  occasioned  him  some  personal  inconvenience,  as,  upon  the 
Baronet's  being  arrested  by  a  king's  messenger,  he  had  deemed 
it  prudent  to  retire  to  a  concealment  called  "  The  Priest's 
Hole,"  from  the  use  it  had  been  put  to  in  former  days  ;  where 
he  assured  our  hero,  the  butler  had  thought  it  safe  to  ventu^.^ 


WAtmRLEY. 


40s 


*wth  food  only  once  in  the  day,  so  that  he  had  been  repeatedly 
compelled  to  dine  upon  victuals  either  absolutely  cold,  or, 
what  was  worse,  only  half  warm,  not  to  mention  that  sometimes 
his  bed  had  not  been  arranged  for  two  days  together.  Waver- 
ley's  mind  involuntarily  turned  to  the  Patmos  of  the  Baron  of 
Bradwardine,  who  was  well  pleased  with  Janet's  fare,  and  a 
few  bunches  of  straw  stowed  in  a  cleft  in  the  front  of  a  sand- 
cliff  ;  but  he  made  no  remarks  upon  a  contrast  which  could 
only  mortify  his  worthy  tutor. 

All  was  now  in  a  bustle  to  prepare  for  the  nuptials  of  Ed- 
ward, an  event  to  which  the  good  old  Baronet  and  Mrs.  Rachel 
looked  forward  as  if  to  the  renewal  of  their  own  youth.  The 
match,  as  Colonel  Talbot  had  intimated,  had  seemed  to  them 
in  the  highest  degree  eligible,  having  every  recommendation 
but  wealth,  of  which  they  themselves  had  more  than  enough. 
Mr.  Clippurse  was  therefore  summoned  to  Waverley-Honour, 
under  better  auspices  than  at  the  commencement  of  our  story. 
But  Mr.  Clippurse  came  not  alone  ;  for,  being  now  stricken  in 
years,  he  had  associated  with  him  a  nephew,  a  younger  vulture 
(as  our  English  Juvenal,  who  tells  the  tale  of  Swallow  the  attor- 
ney, might  have  called  him),  and  they  now  carried  on  business 
as  Messrs.  Clippurse  and  Hookem.  These  worthy  gentlemen 
had  directions  to  make  the  necessary  settlements  on  the  most 
splendid  scale  of  liberality,  as  if  Edvtard  were  to  wed  a  peeress 
in  her  own  right,  with  her  paternal  estate  tacked  to  the  fringe 
of  her  ermine. 

But  before  entering  upon  a  subject  of  proverbial  delay,  I 
must  remind  my  reader  of  the  progress  of  a  stone  rolled  down . 
hill  by  an  idle  truant  boy  (a  pastime  at  which  I  was  myself  ex- 
pert in  my  more  juvenile  years) :  it  moves  at  first  slowly,  avoid- 
ing by  inflection  every  obstacle  of  the  least  importance  ;  but 
when  it  has  attained  its  full  impulse,  and  draws  near  the  con- 
clusion of  its  career,  it  smokes  and  thunders  down,  taking  a 
rood  at  every  spring,  clearing  hedge  and  ditch  like  a  Yorkshire 
huntsman,  and  becoming  most  furiously  rapid  in  its  course 
when  it  is  nearest  to  being  consigned  to  rest  for  ever.  Even 
such  is  the  course  of  a  narrative  like  that  which  you  are  perus- 
ing. The  earlier  events  are  studiously  dwelt  upon,  that  you, 
kind  reader,  may  be  introduced  to  the  character  rather  by  nar- 
rative, than  by  the  duller  medium  of  direct  description  ;  bu> 
when  the  story  draws  near  its  close,  we  hurry  over  the  circum 
stances,  however  important,  which  your  imagination  must  have 
forestalled,  and  leave  you  to  suppose  those  things  which  ij 
would  be  abusing  your  patience  to  relate  at  length. 


4d6  WAVERLBY. 

We  are,  therefore,  so  far  from  attempting  to  trace  the  duU 
progress  of  Messrs.  Clippurse  and  Hookem,  or  that  of  theil 
Worthy  official  brethren,  who  had  their  charge  of  suing  out  the 
pardons  of  Edward  Waverley  and  his  intended  fatherin-law, 
that  we  can  but  touch  upon  matters  more  attractive.  The 
mutual  epistles,  for  example,  which  were  exchanged  between 
Sir  Everard  and  the  Baron  upon  the  occasion,  though  match- 
less specimens  of  eloquence  in  their  way,  must  be  consigned  to 
merciless  .oblivion.  Nor  can  I  tell  you  at  length,  how  worthy 
Aunt  Rachel,  not  without  a  delicate  and  affectionate  allusion 
to  the  circumstances  which  had  transferred  Rose's  maternal 
diamonds  to  the  hands  of  Donald  Bean  Lean,  stocked  her  cas- 
ket with  a  set  of  jewels  that  a  duchess  might  have  envied. 
Moreover,  the  reader  will  have  the  goodness  to  imagine  that 
Job  Houghton  and  his  dame  were  suitably  provided  for,  al- 
though they  could  never  be  persuaded  that  their  son  fell  other- 
wise than  fighting  by  the  young  squire's  side  ;  so  that  Alick, 
who,  as  a  lover  of  truth,  had  made  many  needless  attempts  to 
expound  the  real  circumstances  to  them,  was  finally  ordered  to 
say  not  a  word  more  upon  the  subject.  He  indemnified  him- 
self, however,  by  the  liberal  allowance  of  desperate  battles, 
grisly  executions,  and  raw-head  and  bloody-bone  stories,  with 
which  he  astonished  the  servants'  hall. 

But  although  these  important  matters  maybe  briefly  told  in 
narrative,  like  a  newspaper  report  of  a  Chancery  suit,  yet,  with 
all  the  urgency  which  Waverley  could  use,  the  real  time  which 
the  law  proceedings  occupied,  joined  to  the  delay  occasioned 
by  the  mode  of  travelling  at  that  period,  rendered  it  consider- 
ably more  than  two  months  ere  Waverley,  having  left  England, 
alighted  once  more  at  the  mansion  of  the  Laird  of  Duchran  to 
claim  the  hand  of  his  plighted  bride. 

The  day  of  his  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  sixth  after  his 
arrival.  The  Baron  of  Bradwardine,  with  whom  bridals,  chris- 
tenings, and  funerals  were  festivals  of  high  and  solemn  im- 
port, felt  a  little  hurt,  that,  including  the  family  of  the  Duch- 
ran, and  all  the  immediate  vicinity  who  had  title  to  be  present 
on  such  an  occasion,  there  could  not  be  above  thirty  persons 
collected.  "  When  he  was  married,"  he  observed,  "  three  hun- 
dred horse  of  gentlemen  born,  besides  servants,  and  some  score 
or  two  of  Highland  lairds,  who  never  got  on  horseback,  were 
present  on  the  occasion." 

But  his  pride  found  some  consolation  in  reflecting,  that  he 
and  his  son-in-law  having  been  so  latelv  in  arms  against  Gov* 
ernment,  it  might  give  matter  of  reasonable  fear  and  offence  tq 


WAVERLEV'.  407 

the  ruling  powers,  if  they  were  to  collect  together  the  kiih,  kin, 
and  allies  of  their  houses,  arrayed  in  effeir  of  war,  as  was  the 
ancient  custom  of  Scotland  on  these  occasions — "  And,  without 
dubitation,"  he  concluded  with  a  sigh,  "  many  of  those  who 
would  have  rejoiced  most  freely  upon  these  joyful  espousals, 
qre  either  gone  to  a  better  place,  or  are  now  exiles  from  their 
native  land." 

The  marriage  took  place  on  the  appointed  day.  The  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Rubrick,  kinsman  to  the  proprietor  of  the  hospita- 
ble mansion  where  it  was  solmnized,  and  chaplain  to  the  Baron 
of  Bradwardine,  had  the  satisfaction  to  unite  their  hands  ;  and 
Frank  Stanley  acted  as  bridesman,  having  joined  Edward  with 
that  view  soon  after  his  arrival.  Lady  Emily  and  Colonel 
Talbot  had  proposed  being  present;  but  lady  Emily's  health, 
when  the  day  approached,  was  found  inadequa-te  to  the  journey. 
In  amends,  it  was  arranged  that  Edward  Waverley  and  his 
lady,  who,  with  the  Baron,  proposed  an  immediate  journey  to 
Waverley-Honour,  should,  in  their  way,  spend  a  few  days  at  an 
estate  which  Colonel  Talbot  had  been  tempted  to  purchase  in 
Scotland  as  a  very  great  bargain,  and  at  which  he  proposed  to 
reside  for  some  time. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTY-FIRST. 

This  is  no  mine  ain  house,  I  ken  by  tlie  bigging  o't. — Old-SonOp 

The  nuptial  party  travelled  in  great  style.  There  was  a 
coach  and  six  after  the  newest  pattern,  which  Sir  Everard  had 
presented  to  his  nephew,  that  dazzled  with  its  splendor  the 
eyes  of  one  half  of  Scotland  ;  there  was  the  family  coach  of 
Mr.  Rubrick  ; — both  these  were  crowded  with  ladies,  and  there 
were  gentfeman  on  horseback,  with  their  servants,  to  the  num- 
ber of  a  round  score.  Nevertheless,  without  having  the  fear 
of  famine  before  his  eyes,  Bailie  Macwheeble  met  them  in  the 
road  to  entreat  that  they  would  pass  by  his  house  at  Little 
Veolan.  The  Baron  stared,  and  said  his  son  and  he  would 
certainly  ride  by  Little  Veolan,  anO  pay  their  compliments  to 
the  Bailie,  but  could  not  think  of  bringing  with  them  the  "hailJ 
tomitatus  nuptialis,   or  matrimonial    procession."      He  added, 


4o8  WAVERLEY, 

"  that,  as  he  understood  that  the  barony  had  been  sold  by  it$ 
unworthy  possessor,  he  was  glad  to  see  his  old  friend  Duncan 
had  regained  his  situation  under  the  new  Dominus^  or  proprie- 
tor." The  Bailie  ducked,  bowed,  and  fidgeted,  and  then  again 
insisted  upon  his  invitation  ;  until  the  Baron,  though  rather 
piqued  at  the  pertinacity  of  his  instances,  could  not  never- 
theless refuse  to  consent,  without  making  evident  sensations 
which  he  was  anxious  to  conceal. 

He  feel  into  a  deep  study  as  they  approached  the  top  of  the 
avenue,  and  was  only  startled  from  it  by  observing  that  the 
battlements  were  replaced,  the  ruins  cleared  away,  and  (most 
wonderful  of  all)  that  the  two  great  stone  Bears,  those  mutilated 
Dragons  of  his  idolatry,  had  resumed  their  posts  over  the  gate- 
way. "Now  this  new  proprietor,"  said  he  to  Edward,  "has 
shown  mair  gusto,  as  the  Italians  call  it,  in  the  short  time  he 
has  had  this  domain,  than  that  hound  Malcolm,  though  I  bred 
him  here  mysell,  has  acquired  vita  adhuc  dunxjitc. — And  now 
I  talk  of  hounds,  is  not  yon  Ban  and  Buscar,  who  come  scouping 
up  the  avenue  with  Davie  GeJlatley  ?  " 

"  I  vote  we  should  go  to  meet  them,  sir,"  said  Waverley, 
"  for  I  believe  the  present  master  of  the  house  is  Colonel  Talbot, 
who  will  expect  to  see  us.  We  hesitated  to  mention  to  you 
at  first  that  he  had  purchased  your  ancient  patrimonial  property, 
and  even  yet,  if  you  do  not  incline  to  visit  him,  we  can  pass  on 
to  the  Bailie's." 

The  Baron  had  occasion  for  all  his  magnanimity.  However, 
he  drew  a  long  breath,  took  a  long  snufT,  and  observed,  since 
^ey  had  brought  him  so  far,  he  could  not  pass  the  Colonel's 
gate,  and  he  would  be  happy  to  see  the  new  master  of  his  old 
tenants.  He  alighted  accordingly,  as  did  the  other  gentlemen 
and  ladies  ; — he  gave  his  arm  to  his  daughter,  and  as  they 
descended  the  avenue,  pointed  out  to  her  how  speedily  the 
"  Diva  Pecufiia  of  the  Southron — their  tutelary  deity,  he  might 
call  her — had  removed  the  marks  of  spoliation." 

In  truth,  not  only  had  the  felled  trees  been  removed,  but, 
their  stumps  being  grubbed  up,  and  the  earth  round  them 
levelled  and  sown  with  grass,  every  mark  of  devastation,  unless 
to  an  eye  intimately  acquainted  with  the  spot,  w^as  already 
totally  obliterated.  There  was  a  similar  reformation  in  the 
outward  man  of  Davie  Gellatley,  who  met  them,  every  now 
and  then  stopping  to  admire  the  new  suit  which  graced  his 
person,  in  the  same  colours  as  formerly,  but  bedizened  fine 
enough  to  have  served  Touchstone  himself.  He  danced  up 
mth  his  usual  ungainly  frolics,  first  to  the  Baron,  and  then  to 


IVAVERLEV. 


4d9 


Rose,  passing  his  nand  over  his  clothes,  cr^'ing,  "  Bra\  bra, 
Davie"  and  scarce  able  to  sing  a  bar  to  an  end  of  bis  thousand- 
and-one-songs,  for  the  breathless  extravagance  of  his  joy.  The 
dogs  also  acknowledged  their  old  master  with  a  thousand 
gambols.  "  Upon  my  conscience,  Rose,"  ejaculated  the  Baron, 
"the  gratitude  o'  thae  dumb  brutes,  and  of  that  puir  innocent, 
brings  the  tears  into  my  auld  een,  while  that  schellum  Malcolm 
— but  I'm  obliged  to  Colonel  Talbot  for  putting  my  hounds 
into  such  good  condition,  and  likewise  for  puir  Davie.  But, 
Rose,  my  dear,  we  must  not  permit  them  to  be  a  liferent  burden 
upon  the  estate." 

As  he  spoke.  Lady  Emily,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her 
husband,  met  the  party  at  the  lower  gate,  with  a  thousand 
welcomes.  After  the  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  gone 
through,  much  abridged  by  the  ease  and  excellent  breeding  oi 
Lady  Emilv,  she  apologized  for  having  used  a  little  art,  to 
wile  them  back  to  a  place  which  might  awaken  some  painful 
reflections — "  But  as  it  was  to  change  masters,  we  were  very 
desirous  that  the  Baron " 

"  Mr,  Bradwardine,  madam,  if  you  please,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

" — Mr.  Bradwardine,  then,  and  Mr.  Waverley,  should  see 
what  we  have  done  towards  restoring  the  mansion  of  your 
fathers  to  its  former  state." 

The  Baron  answered  with  a  low  bow.  Indeed,  when  he 
entered  the  court,  excepting  that  the  heavy  stables,  which  had 
been  burnt  down,  were  replaced  by  buildings  of  a  lighter  and 
more  picturesque  appearance,  all  seemed  as  much  as  possible 
restored  to  the  state  in  which  he  had  left  it  when  he  assumed 
arms  some  montJis  before.  The  pigeon-house  was  replenished  ; 
the  fountain  played  with  its  usual  activity  ;  and  not  only  the 
Bear  who  predominated  over  its  basin,  but  all  the  other  Bears 
whatsoever,  were  replaced  on  their  several  stations,  and  renewed 
or-f  pai^eH  vithsomuch  care,  that  they  bore  no  tokens  of  the 
violence  which  had  so  lately  descended  upon  them.  While 
these  minutiae  had  been  so  heedfully  attended  to,  it  is  scarce 
necessary  to  add,  that  the  Iiouse  itself  had  been  thoroughly 
repaired,  as  well  as  the  gardens,  with  the  strictest  attention  to 
maintain  the  original  character  of  both,  and  to  remove,  as  far 
as  possible,  all  appearance  of  the  ravage  they  had  sustained. 
The  Baron  gazed  in  silent  wonder ;  at  length  he  addressed 
Colonel  Talbot : 

"While  I  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  you,  sir,  for  the 
restoration  of  the  badge  of  our  family,  I  cannot  but  marvel 


4IO 


WAVER  LEY. 


that  you  have  nowhere  established  your  own  crest,  whilk  is,  \ 
believe,  a  mastiff,  anciently  called  a  talbot ;  as  the  poet  has  it, 

A  talbot  strong — a  sturdy  tyke. 

At  least  such  a  dog  is  the  crest  of  the  martial  and  renowned 
Earls  of  Shrewsbur}^,  to  whom  your  family  are  probably  blood 
relations," 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  Colonel,  smiling,  "  our  dogs  are  whelps 
of  the  same  litter:  for  my  part,  if  crests  were  to  dispute 
precedence,  I  should  be  apt  to  let  them,  as  the  proverb  sa3's, 
'fight  dog,  fight  bear.'" 

As  he  made  this  speech,  at  which  the  Baron  took  another 
long  pinch  of  snuff,  they  had  entered  the  house — that  is,  the 
Baron,  Rose,  and  Lady  Emily,  with  young  Stanley  and  the 
Bailie,  for  Edward  and  the  rest  of  the  party  remained  on  the 
terrace,  to  examine  a  new  green-house  stocked  v.-ith  the  finest 
plants.  The  Baron  resumed  his  favorite  topic  :  "  However 
it  may  please  you  to  derogate  from  the  honor  of  your  burgonet, 
Colonel  Talbot,  which  is  doubtless  your  humor,  as  I  have  seen 
in  other  gentlemen  of  birth  and  honor  in  your  country,  I  nmst 
again  repeat  it  as  a  most  ancient  and  distinguished  bearing,  as 
well  as  that  of  my  young  friend  Francis  Stanley,  which  is  the 
eagle  and  child." 

"The  bird  and  bantling  they  call  it  in  Derbyshire,  sir,"  said 
Stanley. 

"  Ye're  a  daft  callant,  sir,"  said  the  Baron,  who  had  a  great 
liking  to  this  young  man,  perhaps  because  he  sometimes  teased 
him — "  Ye're  a  daft  callant,  and  I  must  correct  you  some  of 
these  days,"  shaking  his  great  brown  fist  at  him.  "  But  what 
I  meant  to  say.  Colonel  Talbot,  is,  that  yours  is  an  ancient 
frosapia,  or  descent,  and  since  you  have  lawfully  and  justly 
acquired  the  estate  for  you  and  yours,  which  I  have  lost  for  me 
and  mine,  I  wish  it  may  remain  in  your  name  as  many  centuries 
as  it  has  done  in  that  of  the  late  proprietor's." 

"  That,"  answered  the  Colonel,  "  is  very  handsome,  ]Mr= 
Bradwardine,  indeed." 

"And  yet,  sir,  I  cannot  but  marvel  that  you.  Colonel,  whom 
I  noted  to  have  so  much  of  the  amor  patrice,  when  we  met  in 
Edinburgh,  as  even  to  vilipend  other  countries,  should  have 
chosen  to  establish  your  Lares,  or  household  gods,  procul  a 
fatrice finibus,  and  in  a  manner  to  expatriate  )^ourself." 

"  Why  really.  Baron,  I  do  not  see  why,  to  keep  the  secret  of 
these  foolish  boys,  Waverley  and  Stanley,  and  of  my  wife,  who 
is  no  wiser,  one  old  soldier  should  continue  to  impose  upoq 


WAVERLEY. 


411 


another.  You  must  know,  then,  that  I  have  so  much  of  that 
same  prejudice  in  favor  of  my  native  country,  that  the  sum  of 
money  wliich  I  advanced  to  the  seller  of  this  extensive  barony 

has  only  purchased  for  me  a  box  in shire,  called  Brerewood 

Lodge,  with  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land,  the 
chief  merit  of  which  is,  that  it  is  within  a  very  few  miles  of 
Waverley-Hoiiour." 

"  And  who,  then,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  has  bought  this 
property  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  it  is  this  gentleman's  profession 
to  explain," 

The  Bailie,  whom  this  refer-ence  regarded,  and  who  had  all 
this  while  shifted  from  one  foot  to  another  with  great  impatience, 
"  like  a  hen,"  as  he  afterwards  said,  "  upen  a  het  girdle  ; " 
and  chuckling,  he  might  have  added,  like  the  said  hen  in  all 
the  glory  of  laying  an  egg — now  puslied  forward  :  "  That  I  can, 
that  I  can,  your  Honor,"  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  budget 
of  papers,  and  untying  the  red  tape  with  a  hand  trembling  with 
eagerness.  "  Here  is  the  disposition  and  assignation,  by  Mal- 
colm Bradwardine  of  Inch-Grabbit,  regularly  signed  and  tested 
in  terms  of  the  statute,  whereby,  for  a  certain  sum  of  sterling 
money  presently  contented  and  paid  to  him,  he  has  disponed, 
alienated,  and  conveyed  the  whole  estate  and  barony  of  Brad 
wardine,  Tully-Veolan,  and  others,  with  the  fortalice  and  manor 
place " 

"  For  God's  sake,  to  the  point,  sir — I  have  all  that  by  heart,' 
said  the  Colonel. 

"  To  Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine,  Esq.,"  pursued  the  Bailie, 
"  his  heirs  and  assignees,  simply  and  irredeemably — to  be  held 
either  a  we  vel  de  me " 

"  Pray  read  short,  sir.'' 

"  On  the  conscience  of  an  honest  man.  Colonel,  I  read  as 
short  as  is  consistent  with  style. — Under  the  burden  and 
reservation  always " 

"  Mr.  Macwheeble,  this  would  outlast  a  Russian  winter — • 
Give  me  leave.  In  short,  Mr.  Bradwardine,  your  family  estate 
is  your  own  once  more  in  full  joroperty,  and  at  your  absolute  dis- 
posal, but  only  burdened  with  the  sum  advanced  to  repurchase 
it,  which  I  understand  is  utterly  dlsproportioned   to  its  value." 

"  An  auld  sang — an  auld  sang,  if  it  please  your  honors," 
cried  the  Bailie,  rubbing  his  hands  ; — "  look  at  the  rental-book.* 

"  Which  sum  being  advanced  by  Mr.  Edward  Wavcrley, 
chiefly  from  the  price  of  his  father's  property  which  I  bought 
from  him,  is  secured  to  his  lady  your  daughter,  and  her  familjf 
Ijy  this  marriage." 


^12  WAVERLEV. 

"  It  is  a  Catholic  security,"  shouted  the  'nailie,  "  to  Ros€ 
Comyne  Brachvardine,  a/ias  Wauverley,  in  liferent,  and  the 
children  of  the  said  marriage  in  fee  ;  and  I  made  up  a  wee  bit 
minute  of  an  antenuptial  contract,  intuitu  tfiafritnonij,  so  it 
cannot  be  subject  to  reduction  hereafter,  as  a  donation  inter 
7'irum  et  iixoremy 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  worthy  Baron  was  most 
delighted  with  the  restitution  of  his  family  property,  or  with  the 
delicacy  and  generosity  that  left  him  unfettered  to  pursue  his 
purpose  in  disposing  of  it  after  his  death,  and  which  avoided,  as 
much  as  possible,  even  the  appearance  of  laying  him  under 
pecuniary  obligation.  When  his  first  pause  of  joy  and  astonish- 
ment was  over,  his  thoughts  turned  to  the  unworthy  heir-male, 
who,  he  pronounced,  "  had  sold  his  birth-right,  like' Esau,  for  a 
mess  o'  pottage." 

"  But  wha  cookit  the  parritch  for  him  ? "  exclaimed  the 
Bailie  ;  "  I  wad  like  to  ken  that — wha  but  your  honor's  to 
command,  Duncan  Macwheeble  ?  His  honor,  young  Mr. 
\\'auverley,  put  it  a'  into  my  hand  frae  the  beginning — frae  the 
first  calling  o'  the  summons,  as  I  may  say.  I  circumvented 
them — I  played  at  bogle  about  the  bush  wi'  them — I  cajoled 
them  ;  and  if  I  havena  gien  Inch-Grabbit  and  Jamie  Howie  a 
bonnie  begunk,  they  ken  themselves.  Him  a  writer  !  I  didna 
gae  slapdash  to  them  wi'  our  young  bra'  bridegroom,  to  gar 
them  baud  up  the  market ;  na,  na ;  I  scared  them  wi'  our  wHd 
tenantr}',  and  the  Mac-Ivors,  that  are  but  ill  settled  yet,  till  they 
durstna  on  ony  errand  whatsoever  gang  ower  the  door-stane 
after  gloaming,  for  fear  John  Heatherblutter,  or  some  siccan 
dare-the-deil,  should  tak  a  baff  at  them  :  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  befiumm'd  them  wi'  Colonel  Talbot — wad  they  offer  to 
keep  up  the  price  again'  the  Duke's  friend  ?  did  they  na  ken 
wha  was  master  ?  had  they  na  seen  eneugh,  by  the  sad  example 
of  mony  a  pair  misguided  unhappy  body " 

"  Who  went  to  Derby,  for  example,  Mr.  Macwheeble  ? "  said 
the  Colonel  to  him,  aside. 

"  O  whisht.  Colonel,  for  the  love  o'  God  !  let  that  flee  stick 
i'  the  wa'.  There  were  mony  good  folk  at  Derby  ;  and  it's  ill 
speaking  of  halters," — with  a  sly  cast  of  his  eye  toward  the 
Baron,  who  was  in  a  deep  reverie. 

Starting  out  of  it  at  once,  he  took  Mr.  Macwheeble  by  the 
button,  and  led  him  into  one  of  the  deep  window  recesses, 
whence  only  fragments  of  their  conversation  reached  the  rest  of 
the  party.  It  certainly  related  to  stamp-paper  and  parchment; 
for  no  Other  subject,  even  from  the  mouth  of  his  uatron.  and  he. 


WAVE  RLE  Y 


413 


once  more,  an  efficient  one,  could  have  arrested  so  deeply  the 
Bailie's  revere-nt  and  absorbed  attention. 

"  I  understand  your  honor  perfectly  ;  it  can  be  dune  as  easy 
as  taking  out  a  decreet  in  absence." 

"  To  her  and  him,  after  my  demise,  and  to  their  heirs-male, — 
but  preferring  the  second  son,  if  God  shall  bless  them  with  two, 
■who  is  to  carry  the  name  and  arms  of  Bradwardine  of  that  Ilk, 
without  any  other  name  or  armorial  bearings  whatsoever." 

"Tut,  your  honor!"  whispered  the  Bailie,  "I'll  mak  a 
slight  jotting  the  morn ;  it  will  cost  but  a  charter  of  resignation 
in  favorem ;  and  I'll  hae  it  ready  for  the  next  term  in  Ex- 
chequer." 

Their  private  conversation  ended,  the  Baron  was  now 
summoned  to  do  the  honors  of  Tully-Veolan  to  new  guests. 
These  were,  INIajor  Melville  of  Cairnvreckan,  and  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Morton,  followed  by  two  or  three  others  of  the  Baron's 
acquaintances,  who  had  been  made  privy  to  his  having  again 
acquired  the  estate  of  his  fathers.  The  shouts  of  the  villagers 
were  also  heard  beneath  in  the  court-yard  ;  for  Saunders 
Saunderson,  who  had  kept  the  secret  for  several  days  with 
laudable  prudence,  had  unloosed  his  tongue  upon  beholding 
the  arrival  of  the  carriages. 

But,  while  Edward  received  Major  Melville  with  politeness, 
and  the  clergyman  with  the  most  affectionate  and  grateful 
kindness,  his  father-in-law  looked  a  little  awkward,  as  uncertain 
how  he  should  answer  the  necessary  claims  of  hospitality  to  his 
guests,  and  forward  the  festivity  of  his  tenants.  Lady  Emily 
relieved  him,  by  intimating,  that,  though  she  must  be  an 
indifferent  representative  of  Mrs.  Edward  Waverley  in  many 
respects,  she  hoped  the  Baron  would  approve  of  the  entertain- 
ment she  had  ordered,  in  expectation  of  so  many  guests;  and 
that  they  would  find  such  other  accommodations  provided,  as 
might  in  some  degree  support  the  ancient  hospitality  of  Tully- 
Veolan.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  pleasure  wliich  this 
assurance  gave  tlie  Baron,  who,  with  an  air  of  gallantry  half 
appertaining  to  the  stiff  Scottish  laird,  and  half  to  the  officer  in 
the  trench  service,  offered  his  arm  to  the  fair  speaker,  and  led 
the  way,  in  something  between  a  stride  and  a  minute  step, 
into  the  large  dining  parlor,  followed  by  all  the  rest  of  the 
good  company. 

By  dint  of  Saunderson's  directions  and  exertions,  all  here, 
as  well  as  in  the  other  apartments,  had  been  disposed  as  much 
as  possible  according  to  the  old  arrangement ;  and  where  new 
Tiovables  had  been  necessary,  thev  had  been  selected  in  the 


«M 


WAVERLEY, 


same  character  with  the  old  furniture.  There  was  one  addition 
to  this  fine  old  apartment,  however,  which  drew  tears  into  the 
Baron's  eyes.  It  was  a  large  and  spirited  painting,  representing 
Fergus  IVIac-Ivor  and  Waverley  in  their  Highland  dress  ;  the 
scene  a  wild,  rocky,  and  mountainous  pass,  down  which  the 
clan  were  descending  in  the  background.  It  was  taken  from  a 
spirited  sketch,  drawn  while  they  were  in  Edinburgh  by  a 
young  man  of  high  genius,  and  had  been  painted  on  a  full- 
length  scale  by  an  eminent  London  artist.  Raeburn  himself 
(rrhose  Highland  Chiefs  do  all  but  walk  out  of  the  canvas) 
could  not  have  done  more  justice  to  the  subject ;  and  the 
ardent,  fiery,  and  impetuous  character  of  the  unfortunate  Chiet 
of  Glennaquoich  was  finely  contrasted  with  the  contemplative, 
fanciful,  and  enthusiastic  expression  of  his  happier  friend. 
Beside  this  painting  hung  the  arms  which  ^^'averley  had  borne 
in  the  unfortunate  civil  war.  The  whole  piece  was  beheld  with 
admiration,  and  deeper  feelings. 

Men  must,  however,  eat,  in  spite  both  of  sentiment  and 
virtu  ;  and  the  Baron,  while  he  assumed  the  lower  end  of  the 
table,  insisted  that  Lady  Emily  should  do  the  honors  of  the 
head,  that  they  might,  he  said,  set  a  meet  example  to  the  youfig 
folk.  After  a  pause  of  deliberation,  employed  in  adjusting  in 
his  own  brain  the  precedence  between  the  Presbyterian  kirk 
and  Episcopal  church  of  Scotland,  he  requested  Mr.  I\Iorton, 
as  the  stranger,  would  crave  a  blessing, — observing  that  Mr. 
Rubrick,  who  was  at  home,  would  return  thanks  for  the  distin- 
guished mercies  it  had  been  his  lot  to  experience.  The  dinner 
was  excellent.  Saunderson  attended  in  full  costume,  with  all 
the  former  domestics,  who  had  been  collected,  excepting  one  or 
two,  that  had  not  been  heard  of  since  the  affair  of  Culloden. 
The  cellars  were  stocked  with  wine  which  was  pronounced  to 
be  superb,  and  it  had  been  contrived  that  the  Bear  of  the 
Fountain,  in  the  court-yard,  should  (for  that  night  onl}^)  play 
excellent  brandy  punch  for  the  benefit  of  the  lower  orders. 

When  the  dinner  was  over,  the  Baron,  about  to  propose  a 
toast,  cast  a  somewhat  sorrowful  look  upon  the  sideboard, — • 
which,  however,  exhibited  much  of  his  plate,  that  had  either 
been  secreted  or  purchased  by  neighboring  gentlemen  from 
the  soldiery,  and  by  them  gladly  restored  to  the  original  owner. 

"  In  the  late  times,"  he  said,  "  those  must  be  thankful  who 
have  saved  life  and  land  :  yet,  when  I  am  about  to  pronounce 
this  toast,  I  cannot  but  regret  an  old  heir-loom,  Lady  Emily — a 
poculum  potatorium.  Colonel  Talbot •" 

Here  the  Baron's  elbow  was  gentlv  touched  by  his  Majof 


WAVERLEY. 


4IS 


Domo,  and,  turning  round,  he  beheld,  in  the  hands  of  Aiexandei 
ab  Alexandre,  the  celebrated  cup  of  Saint  Duthac,  the  Blessed 
Bear  of  Bradwardine  !  I  question  if  the  recovery  of  his  estate 
afforded  him  more  rapture.  "  By  my  honor,"  he  said,  *  one 
might  almost  believe  in  brownies  and  fairies.  Lady  Emily,  when 
your  Ladyship  is  in  presence  !  " 

"  I  am  truly  happy,"  said  Colonel  Talbot,  "  that  by  the 
recover)'  of  this  piece  of  family  antiquity,  it  has  fallen  within 
my  power  to  give  you  some  token  of  my  deep  interest  in  all  that 
concerns  my  young  friend  Edward.  But  that  you  may  not  sus- 
pect Lady  Emily  for  a  sorceress,  or  me  for  a  conjuror,  which  is 
no  joke  in  Scotland,  I  must  tell  you  that  Frank  Stanley,  your 
friend,  who  has  been  seized  with  a  tartan  fever  ever  since  he 
heard  Edward's  tales  of  old  Scottish  manners,  happened  to 
describe  to  us  at  second  hand  this  remarkable  cup.  M) 
servant,  Spontoon,  who,  like  a  true  old  soldier,  observes  every' 
thing  and  says  little,  gave  me  afterwards  to  understand  that  he 
thought  he  had  seen  the  piece  of  plate  Mr.  Stanley  mentioned, 
in  the  possession  of  a  certain  Mrs.  Nosebag,  who,  having  been 
originally  the  helpmate  of  a  pawnbroker,  had  found  opportunity, 
during  the  late  unpleasant  scenes  in  Scotland,  to  trade  a  little 
in  her  old  line,  and  so  become  the  depositary  of  the  more 
valuable  part  of  the  spoil  of  half  the  army.  You  may  believe 
the  cup  was  speedily  recovered  ;  and  it  will  give  me  very  great 
pleasure  if  you  allow  me  to  suppose  that  its  value  is  not  dimin- 
ished by  having  been  restored  through  my  means. '^ 

A  tear  mingled  with  the  wine  which  the  Baron  filled,  as  he 
proposed  a  cup  of  gratitude  to  Colonel  Talbot,  and  "  The  Pros- 
perity of  the  united  Houses  of  Waverley-Honour  and  Bradwar- 
dine ! " 

It  only  remains  for  me  to  say,  that  as  no  wish  was  ever  ut- 
tered with  more  affectionate  sincerity,  there  are  few  which, 
allowing  for  the  necessary  mutability  of  human  events,  have 
been  upon  the  whole  more  happily  fulfilled. 


CHAPTER    SEVENTY-SECOND. 

A  POSTSCRIPT,    WHICH    SHOULD   HAVE   BEEN   A    PREFACE. 

Our  journey  is  now  finished,  gentle  reader;  and  if  youi 
patience  has  accompanied  me  through  these  sheets,  the  contract 
Is,  on  your  part,  strictly  fulfilled.     Yet,  like  the  driver  who  hai 


^l8  WAVERLEY. 

received  his  full  hire,  I  still  linger  near  you,  and  make,  with  be- 
coming diffidence,  a  trifling  additional  claim  upon  your  bounty 
and  good  nature.  You  are  as  free,  however,  to  shut  the  vol- 
ume of  the  one  petitioner,  as  to  close  your  door  in  the  face  of 
the  other. 

This  should  have  been  a  prefatory  chapter,  but  for  two  rea- 
sons : — First,  that  most  novel  readers,  as  my  own  conscience 
reminds  me,  are  apt  to  be  guilty  of  the  sin  of  omission  respect- 
ing that  same  matter  of  prefaces  ;  secondly,  that  it  is  a  general 
custom  with  that  class  of  students  to  begin  with  the  last  chapter 
of  a  work  ;  so  that,  after  all,  these  remarks,  being  introduced 
last  in  order,  have  still  the  best  chance  to  be  read  in  their 
proper  place. 

There  is  no  European  nation  which,  within  the  course  of 
half  a  century,  or  little  more,  has  undergone  so  complete  a 
change  as  this  kingdom  of  Scotland.  The  effects  of  the  insur- 
rection of  1745— ^the  destruction  of  the  patriarchal  power  of  the 
Highland  chiefs — the  abolition  of  the  heritable  jurisdictions 
of  the  Lowland  nobility  and  barons — the  total  eradication  ol 
the  Jacobite  party,  which,  averse  to  intermingle  with  the  Eng» 
lish,  or  adopt  their  customs,  long  continued  to  pride  themselves 
upon  maintaining  ancient  Scottish  manners  and  customs — com- 
menced this  innovation.  The  gradual  influx  of  wealth,  and  ex- 
tension of  commerce,  have  since  united  to  render  the  present 
people  of  Scotland  a  class  of  beings  as  different  from  theii 
grandfathers  as  the  existing  English  are  from  those  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  time.  The  political  and  economical  effects  of  these 
changes  have  been  traced  by  Lord  Selkirk  with  great  precision 
and  accuracy.  But  the  change,  tliough  steadily  and  rapidly 
progressive,  has,  nevertheless,  been  gradual  ;  and  like  those 
who  drift  down  the  stream  of  a  deep  and  smooth  river,  we  are 
not  aware  of  the  progress  we  have  made,  until  we  fix  our  eye 
on  the  now  distant  point  from  which  we  have  been  drifted.—' 
Such  of  the  present  generation  as  can  recollect  the  last  twenty 
f'i.  e  years  of  the  eighteenth  centur}-,  will  be  fully  sensible  of  the 
truth  of  this  statement ; — especially  if  their  acquaintance  and 
connections  lay  among  those  who,  in  my  younger  time,  were 
facetiously  called  "folks  of  the  old  leaven."  who  still  cherished 
a  lingering,  though  hopeless,  attachment  to  the  house  of  Stuart. 
This  race  has  now  almost  entirely  vanished  from  the  land,  and 
with  it,  doubtless,  much  absurd  political  prejudice — but  also 
many  living  examples  of  singular  and  disinterested  attachment 
to  the  principles  of  loyalty  which  they  received  from  their 
Cathera,  and  of  old  Scottish  faith,  hospitality,  worth,  and  honoi 


WAVER  LEY.  ^. 

ft  was  my  accidental  lof,  though  not  born  a  Highlander 
•'which  may  be  an  apology  for  much  bad  Gaelic),  to  reside  dur- 
,iig  my  childhood  and  youth  among  persons  of  the  above  descrip- 
tion ; — and  now,  for  the  purpose  of  preserving  some  idea  of  the 
ancient  manners  of  which  I  have  witnessed  the  almost  total  ex- 
tinction, I  have  embodied  in  imaginary  scenes,  and  ascribed  to 
fictitious  characters,  a  part  of  the  incidents  which  I  then  re- 
ceived from  those  who  were  actors  in  them.  Indeed,  the  most 
/omantic  parts  of  this  narrative  are  precisely  those  which  have 
a  foundation  in  fact.  The  exchange  of  mutual  protection  be- 
tween a  Highland  gentleman  and  an  officer  of  rank  in  the  king's 
service,  together  with  the  spirited  manner  in  which  the  latter 
asserted  his  right  to  return  the  favor  he  had  received,  is  literally 
true.  The  accident  by  a  musket-shot,  and  the  heroic  reply  im- 
puted to  Flora,  relate  to  a  lady  of  rank  not  long  deceased.  And 
scarce  a  gentleman  who  was  "  in  hiding  "  after  the  battle  of 
Culloden  but  could  tell  a  tale  of  strange  concealments,  and  of 
wild  and  hair's-breadth  'scapes,  as  extraordinary  as  any  which 
I  have  ascribed  to  my  heroes.  Of  this,  the  escape  of  Charles 
Edward  himself,  as  the  most  prominent,  is  the  most  striking  ey 
ample.  The  accounts  of  the  battle  of  Preston  and  skirmish  a^ 
Clifton  are  taken  from  the  narrative  of  intelligent  eye-witnesses, 
and  corrected  from  the  History  of  the  Rebellion  by  the  late 
venerable  author  of  Douglas.  The  Lowland  Scottish  gentlemen, 
and  the  subordinate  characters,  are  not  given  as  individual  por- 
traits, but  are  drawn  from  the  general  habits  of  the  period  (of 
which  I  have  witnessed  some  remnants  in  my  younger  days), 
und  partly  gathered  from  tradition. 

It  has  been  my  object  to  describe  these  persons,  not  by  a 
caricatured  and  exaggerated  use  of  the  national  dialect,  but  by 
their  habits,  manners,  and  feeling  ;  so  as  in  some  distant  dt: 
gree  to  emulate  the  admirable  Irish  portraits  drawn  by  Misi 
Edgeworth,  so  different  from  the  "  Teagues  "  and  "  dear  joys  " 
who  so  long,  with  the  most  perfect  family  resemblance  to  each 
Other,  occupied  the  drama  and  the  novel. 

I  feel  no  confidence,  however,  in  the  manner  in  which  \ 
have  executed  my  purpose.  Indeed,  so  little  was  I  satisfied 
with  my  production,  that  I  laid  it  aside  in  an  unfinished  state, 
and  only  found  it  again  by  mere  accident  among  other  waste 
papers  in  an  old  cabinet,  the  drawers  of  which  I  was  rummag- 
ing in  order  to  accommodate  a  friend  with  some  fishing-tackle, 
after  it  had  been  mislaid  for  several  years.  Two  works  jpon 
similar  subjects,  by  female  authors,  whose  genius  is  highly 
creditable  to  their  country,  have  aoneared  in  the  interval :  T 


41 8  WAVENLEY. 

mean  Mrs.  Hamilton's  Glenburnie,  and  the  late  account  ol 
Highland  Superstitions.  But  the  first  is  confined  to  the  rural 
habits  of  Scotland,  of  which  it  has  given  a  picture  with  striking 
and  impressive  fidelity ;  and  the  traditional  records  of  the  re- 
spectable and  ingenious  Mrs.  Grant  of  Laggan,  are  of  a  nature 
distinct  from  the  fictitious  narrative  which  I  have  here  attempted. 

I  would  willingly  persuade  myself  that  the  preceding  work 
will  not  be  found  altogether  uninteresting.  To  elder  persons 
it  will  recall  scenes  and  characters  familiar  to  their  youth  ;  and 
to  the  rising  generation  the  tale  may  present  some  idea  of  the 
manners  of  their  forefathers. 

Yet  I  heartily  wish  that  the  task  of  tracing  the  evanescent 
manners  of  his  own  c6untry  had  employed  the  pen  of  the  only 
man  in  Scotland  who  could  have  done  it  justice — of  him  so 
eminently  distinguished  in  elegant  literature  —  and  whose 
sketches  of  Colonel  Caustic  and  Umphraville  are  perfectly 
blended  with  the  finer  traits  of  national  character.  I  should  in 
that  case  have  had  more  pleasure  as  a  reader  than  I  shall  ever 
feel  in  the  pride  of  a  successful  author,  should  these  sheets 
confer  upon  me  that  envied  distinction.  As  I  have  inverted 
the  usual  arrangement,  placing  these  remarks  at  the  end  of  the 
work  to  which  they  refer,  I  will  venture  on  a  second  violatioc 
of  form  by  closing  the  whole  with  a  dedication  : — 


THESE   VOLUMES 

BEING   RESPECTFULLY    INSCRIBED 

TO 

OUR  SCOTTISH  ADDISON 

HENRY    MACKENZIE, 

BY 

AN   UNKNOWN   ADMIRBR 
OF 

MIS  GBNIDS. 


NOTES    TO  WAVERLEY. 


1.  PaiJ*  »>t'  Alas  !  that  attire,  respectable  and  gentlemanlike  in  1805  of  ther«< 
4bout»  is  nose  iis  antiquated  as  the  Author  of  Waverley  hashimselr  become  since  that 
period  '  The  reader  of  fashion  will  please  to  fill  up  tKe  costume  with  an  embroidered 
waistcoat  of  purple  velvet  or  silk,  and  a  coat  of  whatever  color  he  pleases.     [1829.] 

2.  Page  25.  Where  the  Chevalier  Saint  George,  or,  as  he  was  termed,  the  Old 
Pretender,  held  his  exiled  court,  as  his  situation  compelled  him  to  shift  his  place  of 
residence. 

3.  Page  26.  Long  the  oracle  of  the  country  gentlemen  of  the  high  Tory  party. 
The  ancient  News-Letter  was  written  in  manuscript  and  copied  by  the  clerks,  who 
addressed  the  copies  to  the  subscribers  The  politician  by  whom  they  were  compiled, 
picked  up  his  intelligence  at  Ccffee-nouses,  and  often  pleaded  for  an  additional 
gratuity,  in  consideration  of  the  extra  expense  attached  to  frequenting  such  places  of 
fashionable  resort, 

4.  Page  37.  There  is  a  family  legend  to  this  purpose,  belonging  to  the  knightly 
family  of  Bradshaigh,  the  proprietors  of  Haigh-hall,  in  Lancashire,  where,  I  have 
been  told,  the  event  is  recorded  on  a  painted  glass  window.  The  German  ballad  of 
the  Noble  Moringer  turns  upon  a  similar  topic.  But  undoubtedly  many  such  inci- 
dents may  have  taken  place,  where,  the  distance  being  great  and  the  intercourse 
infrequent,  false  reports  concerning  the  fate  of  the  absent  Crusaders  must  have  been 
commonly  circulated,  and  sometimes  perhaps  rather  hastily  credited  at  home. 

5.  Page  47.  These  Introductory  Chapters  have  been  a  good  deal  censured  as 
tedious  and  unnecessary.  Yet  there  are  circumstances  recorded  in  them  which  th# 
author  has  not  been  able  to  persuade  himself  to  retract  or  cancel. 

6.  Page  49.  The  attachment  to  this  classic  was,  it  is  said,  actually  displayed,  ia 
tlie  manner  mentioned  in  the  text,  by  an  unfortunate  Jacobite  in  that  unhappy  perJf>^ 
He  escaped  from  the  jail  in  which  he  was  confined  for  a  hasty  trial  and  certain  co.c 
damnation,  and  was  retaken  as  he  hovered  around  the  place  in  whicli  he  had  been 
imprisoned,  for  which  he  could  give  no  better  reason  than  the  hope  of  recovering  hi» 
favorite  Titus  Livms.  I  am  sorry  to  add,  that  the  simplicity  of  such  a  character  was 
found  to  form  no  apology  for  his  guilt  as  a  rebel,  and  he  was  condemned  ar' fjc* 
ecuted. 

7.  Page  52.  Nicholas  Amhurst,  a  noled  political  writer,  wlio  conducted  for  many 
years  a  paper  called  the  Crattsman,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Caleb  D'Anvers. 
He  was  devoted  to  t'ne  Tory  interest,  and  seconded,  with  niucli  ability,  the  attacks  of 
Pulteney  on  Sir  Robert  Walpole.  lie  died  in  1742,  neglected  by  his  great  patrons, 
and  in  the  most  miserable  circumstances. 

"  Amhurst  survived  the  downfall  of  Walpole's  power,  and  had  re:«son  to  expect  a 
reward  for  his  labors.  If  we  excuse  Bolingbrokc,  who  had  only  saved  the  shipwreck 
^  his  fortunes,  we  shall  be  at  a  loss  to  iustifv  Pulteney,  who  could  with  ease  'kx^ 

(4»»> 


420  A'OTES. 

given  this  man  a  considerable  income.  The  utmost  rif  his  generosity  to  Amhurst, 
that  I  ever  heard  of,  was  a  hopjshead  of  claret!  He  died,  it  is  supposed,  of  a  broken 
heart ;  and  was  buried  at  the  charge  of  his  honest  printer,  Richard  Francklin."— (ZLori 
Chesterfield's  Characters  Rei'ieu-ed,f>.  j^2.'\ 

8.  Page  54.  I  have  now  gjven  in  the  text,  the  full  name  of  this  gallant  and  ex- 
cellent man,  and  proceed  to  copy  the  account  of  his  remarkable  conversion,  as  related 
by  Dr.  Doddridge. 

"  This  memorable  event,"  says  the  pious  writer,  "happened  towards  the  middle 
of  July,  1719.  The  major  had  spent  the  evening  (and,  if  I  mistake  not,  it  was  the 
Sabbath)  in  some  gay  company,  and  had  an  unhappy  assignation  with  a  married 
Voman,  whom  he  was  to  attend  exactly  at  twelve.  The  company  broke  up  about 
eleven  ;  and  not  judging  it  convenient  to  anticipate  the  time  appointed,  he  went  into 
his  chamber  to  kill  the  tedious  hour,  perhaps  with  some  amusing  book,  or  some  other 
way.  But  it  very  accidentally  happened,  that  he  took  up  a  religious  book,  which  his 
good  mother  or  aunt  had,  without  his  knowledge,  slipped  into  his  portmanteau.  It 
was  called,  if  1  remember  the  title  exactly,  '  The  Christian  Soldier,  or  Heaven  taken 
by  Storm,'  and  it  was  written  by  Mr.  Thomas  Watson.  Guessing  by  the  title  of  it 
that  he  would  find  some  phrases  of  his  own  profession  spiritualized  in  a  manner  which 
he  thought  might  afford  him  some  diversion,  he  resolved  to  dip  into  it ;  but  he  took  no 
serious  notice  of  anything  it  had  in  it,  and  yet  while  this  book  was  in  his  hand,  an  im- 
pression was  made  upon  his  mind  (perhaps  God  only  knows  how)  which  drew  after  it 
a  train  of  the  most  important  and  happy  consequences-  He  thought  he  saw  an 
unusual  blaze  of  light  fall  upon  the  book  which  he  was  reading,  which  he  at  first 
imagined  might  happen  by  some  accident  in  the  candle  ;  but  lifting  up  his  eyes,  he 
apprehended,  to  his  extreme  amazement,  that  there  was  before  him,  as  it  were  sus- 
pended in  the  air,  a  visible  representation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  upon  the  cross, 
surrounded  on  all  sides  with  gloiy,  and  was  impressed,  as  if  a  voice,  or  something  equiva- 
lent  to  a  voice,  had  come  to  him,  to  this  effect  (for  he  was  not  confident  as  to  the 
words),  '  Oh,  sinner!  did  I  suffer  this  for  thee,  and  are'these  thy  returns!'  Struck 
with  so  amazing  a  phenomenon  as  this,  there  remained  hardly  any  life  in  him,  so  that 
he  sunk  down  in  the  arm-chair  in  which  he  sat,  and  continued,  he  knew  not  how  long, 
insensible." 

"  With  regard  to  this  vision,"  says  the  ingenious  Dr.  Hibbert.  "  the  appearance  of 
our  Saviour  on  the  cross,  and  the  awful  words  repeated,  can  be  considered  in  no  other 
light  than  as  so  many  recollected  images  of  the  mind,  which,  probably,  had  their  origin 
in  the  language  of  some  urgent  appeal  to  repentance,  that  the  colonel  might  have 
casually  read,  or  heard  delivered.  From  what  cause,  however,  such  ideas  were  ren- 
dered as  vivid  as  actual  impressions,  we  have  no  information  to  be  depended  upon. 
This  vision  was  certainly  attended  with  one  of  the  most  important  of  consequences, 
connected  with  the  Christian  dispensation — the  conversion  of  a  sinner.  And  hence 
no  single  narrative  has,  perhaps,  done  more  to  confirm  the  superstitious  opinion  that 
apparitions  of  this  awful  kind  cannot  arise  without  a  divine  fiat."  Dr.  Hibbert  adds, 
in  a  note — "  A  short  time  before  the  vision,  Colonel  Gardiner  had  received  a  severe  fall 
from  his  horse.  Did  the  brain  receive  some  slight  degree  of  injury  from  the  accident, 
«o  as  to  predispose  him  to  this  spiritual  illusion  ?  " — (Hibberfs  Philosophy  of  Afpari- 
ifons,  Edinburgh,  1824,  p.  190.) 

9.  Page  55.  The  courtesy  of  an  invitation  to  partake  a  traveller' .s  meal,  or  at 
east  that  of  being  invited  to  share  ".'hatever  liquor  the  guest  called  for,  was  expected 
by  certain  old  landlords  in  Scotland  even  in  the  youth  of  the  author.  In  requital, 
mine  host  was  always  furnished  with  the  news  of  the  country,  and  was  probably  a  little 
of  a  humorist  to  boot  The  devolution  of  the  whole  actual  business  and  drudgery  of 
the  inn  upon  the  poor  gudewife,  was  very  common  among  the  Scottish  Bonifaces. 
There  was  in  ancient  times,  in  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  a  gentleman  of  good  family, 
who  condescended,  in  order  to  gain  a  livelihood,  to  become  the  nominal  keeper  of  a 
coffee-house,  one  of  the  first  places  of  the  kind  which  had  been  opened  in  the  Scottish 
metropolis.     As  usual,  it  was  entirely  managed  by  the  careful  and  industrious  Mrs. 

B ;  while  her  husband  amused  himself  with  field  sports,  without  troubling  his 

\fiiA  about  the  matter.    Once  upon  a  time  the  premises  having  tak^n  fire,  the  husband 


NOTES.  421 

was  met  walking  up  the  High  Street  loaded  with  his  guns  and  fishing-rods,  and  replieci 
calmly  to  some  one  who  inquired  after  his  wife,  "  that  the  poor  woman  was  trying  to 
save  a  parcel  of  crockery,  and  some  trumpery  books ; "  the  last  being  those  which 
served  her  to  conduct  the  business  of  the  liouse. 

There  were  many  elderly  gentlemen  in  tlie  author's  yovmger  days,  who  still  held  it 
part  of  the  amusement  of  a  journey  "to  parley  with  mine  host,"  whooften  resem- 
bled, in  his  quaint  humor,  mine  Host  of  the  Garter  in  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor ; 
or  Blague  of  the  George  intlie  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton.  Sometimes  the  landlady 
took  her  share  of  entertaining  tlie  company.  In  either  case  the  omitting  to  pay  therr 
due  attention  gave  displeasure,  and  perhaps  brought  down  a  smart  jest,  as  on  the  fol 
lowing  occasion  : — 

A  jolly  dame  who,  not  "  Sixty  Years  since,''  kept  the  principal  caravansary  a< 
Greenlaw,  m  Berwickshire,  had  the  honor  to  receive  under  her  roof  a  very  worthy 
clergyman,  witli  three  sons  of  the  same  profession,  each  having  a  cure  of  souls  ;  be  it 
said  in  passing,  none  of  the  reverend  party  were  reckoned  powerful  in  the  pulpit. 
After  dinner  was  over,  the  worthy  senior,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart,  asked  Mrs. 
Buchan  whether  she  ever  had  had  such  a  party  in  her  house  before.  "  Here  sit  I,"  ha 
said,  "  a  placed  minister  of  the  kirk  of  Scotland,  and  here  sit  my  three  sons,  each  a 
placed  minister  of  tlie  same  Kirk. — Confess,  Luckie  Buchan,  you  never  had  such  a 
party  in  your  house  before.''  The  question  was  not  premised  by  any  invitation  to  sit 
down  and  take  a  glass  of  wine  or  the  like,  so  Mrs.  B.  answered  dryly,  "  Indeed,  sir,  I 
cannot  just  say  that  ever  I  had  sucli  a  party  in  my  house  before,  except  once  in  the 
forty-five,  when  I  had  a  Highland  piper  here,  with  his  three  sons,  all  Highland  pipers: 
and  de'il  a  spring  they  could  play  amang  fhctn." 

10.  Page  60.  There  is  no  particular  mansion  described  under  the  name  of 
Tully-Veolan  ;  but  the  peculiarities  of  the  description  occur  in  various  old  Scottish 
Seats.  The  House  of  Warrender  upon  Burntsfield  Links,  and  that  of  Old  Ravelston, 
belonging,  the  former  to  Sir  George  Warrender,  the  latter  to  Sir  Alexander  Keith, 
have  both  contributed  several  hints  to  the  description  in  the  text.  The  House  of 
Dean,  near  Edinburgh,  has  also  some  points  of  resemblance  with  Tull)'-Veolan.  The 
author  has,  however,  been  informed,  tiiat  the  House  of  Grandtully  resembles  that  of 
the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  still  more  than  any  of  the  above. 

11.  Page  61.  At  Ravelston  may  be  seen  such  a  garden,  which  the  taste  of  the 
proprietor,  the  author's  friend  and  kinsman.  Sir  Alexander  Keith,  Knight  Mareschal, 
has  judiciously  preserved.  That,  as  well  as  the  house,  is,  however,  of  smaller  dimen- 
sions than  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine' s  mansion  and  garden  are  presumed  to  have 
been. 

12.  Page  63.  This  is  a  genuine  ancient  fragment,  with  some  alteration  in  the  last 
two  lines. 

13.  Page  65.  I  am  ignorant  how  long  the  ancient  and  established  custom  of 
keeping  fools  has  been  disused  in  England.     Swift  writes  an  epitaph  on  the  Earl  of 

Suffolk's  fool, — 

"  Whose  name  was  Dickie  Pearce.'' 
In  Scotland  the  custom  subsisted  till  late  in  the  last  century ;  at  Glammis  Castle,  is 
preserved  the  dress  of  one  of  the  jesters,  very  handsonie,  and  ornamented  with  many 
Dells.  It  is  not  above  thirty  years  since  sucli  a  character  stood  by  the  sideboard  of  ? 
nobleman  of  the  first  rank  in  Scotland,  and  occasionally  mixed  in  the  conversation,  til 
he  carried  the  joke  rather  too  far,  in  making  proposals  to  one  of  the  young  ladies  o^ 
the  family,  and  publishing  the  bans  between  her  and  himself  in  the  public  church. 

14.  Pags  69.  After  the  Revolution  of  1688,  and  on  some  occasions  when  th^ 
spirit  of  the  i'resbyterians  had  been  unusually  animated  against  their  opponents,  the 
Episcopal  clerg)"men,  who  were  chiefly  non-jurors,  were  exposed  to  be  mobbed,  as  we 
should  now  sav,  or  rabbled,  z%  tlie  phrase  then  went,  to  expiate  their  political  heresies. 
But,  notwithstanding  that  the  Presbyterians  liad  the  i^crsecution  in  Charles  II.  and  hl» 
brother's  time  to  exasperate  them,  there  w»s  little  mischief,  done  bevond  the  kind  «i 
petty  violence  mentioned  in  the  text 


422  NOTES, 

15.  Page  72.    Southey's  Madoc 

16.  Page  73.  I  may  here  mention,  that  the  fashion  of  compotation  descrihed  is 
the  text  was  still  occasionally  practiced  in  Scotland,  in  the  author's  youth.  A  com« 
pany,  after  having  taken  leave  of  their  host,  often  went  to  finish  the  evening  at  the 
clachan  or  village,  in  "  womb  of  tavern."  Their  entertainer  always  accompanied  them 
to  take  the  stirrup-cup,  which  often  occasioned  a  long  and  late  revel. 

The  Poculuin  Polatormm  of  the  valiant  Baron,  his  blessed  Bear,  has  a  prototype 
at  the  fine  old  Castle  of  Glammis,  so  rich  in  memorials  of  ancient  times  ;  it  is  a  mas- 
sive beaker  of  silver,  double  gilt,  moulded  into  the  shape  of  a  lion,  and  holding  about 
an  English  pint  of  wine.  The  form  alludes  to  the  family  name  of  Strathmore,  which 
is  Lyon,  and,  when  exhibited,  the  cup  must  necessarily  be  emptied  to  the  Earl'j 
health.  The  author  ought  perhaps  to  be  ashamed  of  recording  that  he  has  had  tli* 
honor  of  swallowing  the  contents  of  the  Lion  ;  and  the  recollection  of  the  feat  served 
to  suggest  the  story  of  the  Bear  of  Bradwardine.  In  the  family  of  Scott  of  Thirles- 
tane  (not  Thirlestane  in  the  Forest,  but  the  place  of  the  same  name  in  Roxburgh, 
shire)  was  long  preserved  a  cup  of  the  same  kind,  in  the  form  of  a  jack-boot.  Each 
guest  was  obliged  to  empty  this  at  his  departure.  If  the  guest's  name  was  Scott,  the 
necessity  was  doubly  imperative. 

When  the  landlord  of  an  inn  presented  his  guests  with  deoch  an  doruis,  that  is, 
the  drink  at  the  door,  or  the  stirrup-cup,  the  draught  was  not  charged  in  tne  reckon- 
ing.  On  this  point  a  learned  Bailie  of  the  town  of  Forfar  pronounced  a  very  sound 
judgment. 

A.,  an  ale-wife  in  Forfar,  had  brewed  her  "  peck  of  malt,"  and  set  the  liquor  out  of 
doors  to  cool;  the  cow  of  B.,  a  neighbor  of  A.,  chanced  to  come  by,  and  seeing  the 
good  beverage,  was  allured  to  taste  it,  and  finally  to  drink  it  up.  When  A.  came  io 
take  in  her  liquor,  she  found  her  tub  empty,  and  from  the  cow's  staggering  and  staring, 
so  as  to  betray  her  intemperance,  she  easily  divined  the  mode  in  which  her  "browst" 
had  disappeared.  To  take  vengeance  on  Crummie's  ribs  with  a  stick,  was  her  first 
effort.  The  roaring  of  the  cow  brought  B.,  hei  niaster,  who  remonstrated  with  his 
angry  neighbor,  and  received  in  reply  a  demand  for  the  value  of  the  ale  which  Crunv 
mie  had  drunk  up.  B.  refused  payment,  and  was  conveyed  before  C,  the  Bailie,  or 
sitting  Magistrate.  He  heard  the  case  patiently;  and  then  demanded  of  the  plaintiff 
A.,  whether  the  cow  had  sat  down  to  her  potation,  or  taken  it  standing.  The  plain- 
tiff answered,  she  had  not  seen  the  deed  committed,  but  she  supposed  the  cow  drank 
the  ale  while  standing  on  her  feet ;  adding  that  had  she  been  near,  she  would  have 
made  her  use  them  to  some  purpose.  The  Bailie,  on  this  admission,  solemnly 
adjudged  the  cow's  drink  to  be  dcoch  an  doruis — a  stirrup-cup,  for  which  no  charge 
could  be  made,  without  violating  the  ancient  hospitality  of  Scotland. 

17  Page  74.  This  has  been  censured  as  an  anachronism  ;  and  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  agriculture  of  this  kind  was  unknown  to  the  Scotch  Sixty  Years  since. 

18.  Page  74.  SuKtn  citique.  This  snatch  of  a  ballad  was  composed  by  Andrew 
MacDonald,  the  ingenious  and  unfortunate  author  of  Vimonda. 

19.  Page  81.  The  learned  in  cookery  dissent  from  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine, 
and  hold  the  roe  venison  dry  and  indifferent  food,  unless  when  dressed  in  soup  and 
Scotch  collops. 

20.  Page  84.  A  bare-footed  Highland  lad  is  called  a  gillie-wet-foot.  Gillie,  in 
general,  means  servant  or  attendant. 

21.  Page  85.  The  Baron  ought  to  have  remembered  that  the  joyous  Adan  liter 
ally  drew  his  blood  from  the  house  of  the  noble  Earl,  whom  he  terms — 

Dalhousie  of  an  old  descent. 

My  stoup,  my  pride,  my  ornament 

22.  Page  90.  The  story  last  told  was  said  to  have  happened  in  the  soutli  ol 
Scotknd  ;  biU — cedatzf  arnia  togce — and  let  the  gown  have  its  dues.  It  was  an  old 
clargyman,  %Yho  had  wisdom  and  firmness  enough  to  resist  the  panic  which  seized 


^OTES. 


423 


Ms  brethren,  who  was  the  means  of  rescuing  a  poor  insane  creature  from  the  cruel  fata 
which  would  otherwise  have  overtaken  her.  The  accounts  of  the  trials  for  witchcraft 
form  one  of  the  most  deplorable  chapters  in  Scottish  story. 

23.  Page  92.  Although  canting  heraldry  is  generally-reprobated,  it  seems  never 
Bieless  to  have  been  adopted  in  the  arms  and  mottoes  of  many  honorable  families. 
Thus  the  motto  of  the  Vern  ns  Vcrtio7t  setn/'cr  viret,  is  a  perfect  pun,  and  so  is  that 
of  the  Onslows,  Festina  Icvic.  Tlie  Periissem  iii pcriisscm  of  the  Anstrutherf.  is 
liable  to  a  similar  objection.  One  of  that  ancient  race,  finding  that  an  antagoi.ist, 
with  whom  he  had  fixed  a  friendly  meeting,  was  determined  to  take  the  opportunity 
of  assassinating  him,  prevented  the  hazard  by  dashing  out  his  brains  with  a  battle-axe. 
Two  sturdy  arms,  brandishing  such  a  weapon,  form  the  usual  crest  of  the  family,  with 
the  above  motto — Periissem  ni  per  iissem — (I  had  died  unless  I  had  gone  through 
with  it). 

24.  Page  97.  A  creagh  was  an  incursion  for  plunder,  termed  on  the  Borders  a 
raid. 

25.  Page  98.  Sorners  may  be  translated  sturdy  beggars,  more  especially  indi- 
cating those  unwelcome  visitors  who  exact  lodgings  and  victuals  by  force,  or  somo« 
thing  approaching  to  it. 

26.  Page  103.  Mac-Donald  of  Barrisdale,  one  of  the  very  last  Highland  gentle- 
men who  carried  on  the  plundering  system  to  any  great  extent,  was  a  scholar  and  a 
Well-bred  gentleman.     He  engraved  on  his  broadswords  the  well-known  lines — 

Hse  tibi  erunt  artes — pacisque  imponere  morem, 
Parcere  subjectis,  et  debellare  superbos. 

Indeed,  the  levying  of  black  mail  was,  before  the  year  1745,  practiced  by  several 
chiefs  of  very  high  rank,  who,  in  doing  so,  contended  that  they  were  lending  the  laws 
the  assistance  of  their  arms  and  swords,  and  affording  a  protection  which  could  not  be 
obtained  from  the  magistracy  in  the  disturbed  state  of  the  country.  The  author  has 
Been  a  Memoir  of  Mac-Pherson  of  Cluny,  chief  of  that  ancient  clan,  from  which  it  ap 
pears  that  he  levied  protection-money  to  a  very  large  amount,  which  was  willingly 
paid  even  by  some  of  his  most  powerful  neighbors.  A  gentleman  of  this  clan  hearing 
a  clergyman  hold  forth  to  his  congregation  on  the  crime  of  theft,  interrupted  the 
preacher  to  assure  him,  he  might  leave  the  enforcement  of  such  doctrines  to  Cluny 
Mac-Pherson,  whose  broadsword  would  put  a  stop  to  theft  sooner  than  all  the  ser- 
mons of  all  the  ministers  of  the  Synod. 

27.  Page  106.  The  Town-guard  of  Edinburgh  were,  till  a  late  period,armedwith 
this  weapon  when  on  their  police-duty.  There  was  a  hook  at  the  back  of  the  axe, 
which  the  ancient  Highlanders  used  to  assist  them  to  climb  over  walls,  fixing  the  hook 
apon  it,  and  raising  themselves  by  the  handle.  The  axe,  which  was  also  much  used 
by  the  natives,  is  supposed  to  have  been  introduced  into  both  countries  from 
Scandinavia. 

28.  Page  110.  It  is  not  the  weeping  birch,  the  most  common  species  in  ths 
Highlands,  but  the  woolly-leaved  Lowland  birch,  that  is  distinguished  by  this  fragrance. 

29.  Page  112.  An  adventure,  very  similar  to  what  is  here  stated,  actually  befell 
the  late  Mr.  Abercromby  of  Tullibody,  grandfather  of  the  present  Lord  Abercromby, 
and  father  of  the  celebrated  Sir  Ralph.  When  this  gentleman,  who  lived  to  a  very 
advanced  period  of  life,  first  settled  in  Stirlingshire,  his  cattle  were  repeatedly  driven 
off  by  the  celebrated  Rob  Roy,  or  some  of  his  gang  ;  and  at  length  he  was  obliged, 
after  obtaining  a  proper  safe-conduct,  to  make  theCatcran  such  a  visit  as  that  of  \Va- 
verly  to  Bean  Lean  in  the  text.  Rob  received  him  with  much  courtesy,  and  made  many 
apologies  for  the  accident,  which  must  have  happened,  he  said,  through  some  mistake, 
Mr.  Aberbcromby  was  regaled  with  collops  from  two  of  his  own  cattle,  which  were 
hung  up  by  the  hee's  in  the  cavern,  and  was  dismissed  in  perfect  safety,  after  having 
agreed  to  pay  in  future  a  small  sum  of  black  mail,  in  consideration  of  which  Rob  Roy 


424 


NOTES. 


fJot  only  undertook  to  forbear  his  herds  in  future,  but  to  replace  any  that  should  b* 
stolen  from  him  by  oflier  freebooters.  Mr.  Abercromby  said,  Rob  Roy  affected  ta 
consider  him  as  a  friend  to  tiie  Jacobite  interest,  and  a  sincere  enemy  to  the  Union. 
Neither  of  these  circumstances  were  true  ;  but  the  laird  thought  it  quite  unnecessary  to 
undeceive  his  Highland  host  at  tlie  risk  of  bringing  on  a  political  dispute  in  such  a 
situation.  This  anecdote  1  received  many  years  since  (about  1792),  from  the  mouth 
of  the  venerable  gentleman  who  was  concerned  in  it. 

30.  Page  112.  This  was  the  regale  presented  by  Rob  Roy  to  the  Laird  of 
Tullibody. 

31.  Page  119.  This  celebrated  gibbet  was,  in  the  memory  of  the  last  generation, 
still  standing  at  the  western  end  of  the  town  of  Crieff,  in  Perthshire.  Why  it  was 
called  the  kind  gallows,  we  are  unable  to  inform  the  reader  with  certainty  ;  but  it  is 
alleged  that  tlie  Highlanders  used  to  touch  their  bonnets  as  they  passed  a  place,  which 
had  been  fatal  to  many  of  their  countrymen,  with  the  ejaculation — "  God  bless  her 
n^n  sell,  and  the  Tiel  tamn  you !  "  It  may  therefore  have  been  called  kind,  as  being 
a  sort  of  native  or  kindred  place  of  doom  to  those  who  suffered  there,  as  in  fulfilment 
of  a  natural  destiny. 

32.  Page  121.  The  story  of  the  bridegroom  carried  off  by  Caterans,  on  his  bridal- 
day,  is  taken  from  one  which  was  told  to  the  author  by  the  late  Laird  of  Mac-Nab, 
many  years  since.  To  carry  off  persons  from  the  Lowlands,  and  to  put  them  to  ran- 
som, was  a  common  practice  with  the  wild  Highlanders,  as  it  is  said  to  be  at  the  pres- 
ent day  with  the  banditti  in  the  south  of  Italy.  Upon  the  occasion  alluded  to,  a  party 
of  Caterans  carried  off  the  bridegroom,  and  secreted  him  in  some  cave  near  the  moun- 
tain of  Schihailion.  The  young  man  caught  the  small-pox  before  his  ransom  could 
be  agreed  on  ;  and  whether  it  was  the  fine  cool  air  of  the  place,  or  the  want  of  medical 
attendance,  Mac-Nab  did  not  pretend  to  be  positive  ;  but  so  it  was,  that  the  prisoner 
recovered,  his  ransom  was  paid,  and  he  was  restored  to  his  friends  and  bride,  but 
always  considered  the  Highland  robbers  as  having  saved  his  life,  by  their  treatment  of 
his  malady. 

33.  Page  122.  The  Scotch  are  hberal  in  computing  their  land  and  liquor  ;  the 
Scottish  pint  corresponds  to  two  English  quarts.  As  for  their  coin,  every  one  knows 
the  couplet — 

How  can  the  rogues  pretend  to  sense  ? — 
Their  pound  is  only  twenty  pence. 

34.  Page  125.  This  happened  on  many  occasions.  Indeed,  it  was  not  till  after 
the  total  destruction  of  the  clan  influence,  after  1745,  ^^^^  purchasers  could  be  found, 
who  offered  a  fair  price  for  the  estates  forfeited  in  1715,  which  were  then  brought  to 
sale  by  the  creditors  of  the  York  Buildings  Company,  who  had  purchased  the  whole 
or  greater  part  from  government  at  a  very  small  price.  Even  so  late  as  the  period 
first  mentioned,  the  prejudices  of  the  pubUc  in  favor  of  the  heirs  of  the  forfeited 
families  threw  various  impediments  in  the  way  of  intending  purchasers  of  sue! 
property. 

35.  Page  127.  This  sort  of  political  game  ascribed  to  Mac-Ivor  was  in  reality 
played  by  several  Highland  chiefs,  the  celebrated  Lord  Lovat  in  particular,  who  use4 

that  kind  of  finesse  to  the  uttermost.     The  Laird  of  Mac was  also  captain  of  an 

independent  company,  but  valued  the  sweets  of  present  pay  too  well  to  incur  the  risk 
of  losing  them  in  the  Jacobite  cause.  His  martial  consort  raised  his  clan,  and  headed 
it,  in  1745.  But  the  chief  himself  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  king-making,  de- 
claring himself  for  that  monarch,  and  no  other,  who  gave  the  Laird  of  Mac "  half- 

a-guinea  the  day,  and  half-a-guinea  the  morn." 

36.  Page  129.  In  explanation  of  the  military  exercise  observed  at  the  Castle  of 
Glennaquoich,  the  author  begs  to  remark,  that  the  Highlanders  were  not  only  weli 
practiced  in  the  use  of  the  broadsword,  firelock,  and  most  of  the  manly  sports  and 
trials  of  strength  common  throughout  Scotland,  but  also  used  a  peculiar  sort  of  drill, 
luited  to  their  own  dress  and  mode  of  warfare.     There  were,  for  instance,  different 


NOTES.  ^2j 

modes  of  disposing  the  plaid,  one  when  on  a  peaceful  journey,  another  when  danger 
was  apprehended  •  one  way  of  enveloping  themselves  in  it  when  expecting  undisturbed 
repose,  and  another  which  enabled  them  to  star.,  up  with  sword  and  pistol  in  hand  on 
the  slightest  alarm. 

Previous  to_  1720,  or  thereabouts,  the  belted  plaid  was  universally  worn,  in  which 
the  portion  which  surrounded  the  middle  of  the  wearer,  and  that  which  was  flung 
around  his  shoulders,  were  all  of  the  same  piece  of  tartan.  In  a  desperate  onset  alj 
was  thrown  away,  and  the  clan  charged  bare  beneath  the  doublet,  save  for  an  artificial 
arrangement  of  the  shirt,  wliich,  like  that  of  the  Irish,  was  always  ample,  and  for  th« 
sporran-mollach,  or  goat's-skin  purse. 

The  manner  of  handling  the  pistol  and  dirk  was  also  part  of  the  Highland  manual 
exercise,  which  the  author  has  seen  gone  through  by  men  who  had  learned  it  in  their 
youth. 

37.  Page  131.  Pork,  or  swine's  flesh,  in  any  shape,  was,  till  of  late  years,  much 
abominated  by  the  Scotch,  nor  is  it  yet  a  favorite  food  amongst  them.  King  Jamie 
carried  this  prejudice  to  England,  and  is  known  to  have  abhorred  pork  almost  as  much 
as  he  did  tobacco.  Ben  Jonson  has  -ecorded  this  peculiarity,  where  the  gypsy  in  a 
masque,  examining  the  kmg's  hand,  says, 

you  should  by  this  line 

Love  a  horse,  and  a  hound,  but  no  part  of  a  swine. 

The  Gypsies  Metamorphosed. 

James's  own  proposed  banquet  for  the  Devil  was  a  loin  of  pork  and  a  poll  of  ling,  with 
a  pipe  of  tobacco  for  digestion. 

38.  Page  131.  In  the  number  of  persons  of  all  ranks  who  assembled  at  the  same 
table,  though  by  no  means  to  discuss  the  same  fare,  the  Highland  chiefs  only  retained 
a  custom  which  had  been  formerly  universally  observed  throughout  Scotland.  "  I  my- 
self," says  ttie  traveller,  Fynes  Morrison,  in  the  end  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  the 
scene  being  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland,  "  was  at  a  knight's  house,  who  had  many  ser« 
vants  to  attend  him,  that  brought  in  his  meat  with  their  heads  covered  with  blue  caps, 
the  table  being  more  than  half  furnished  with  great  platters  of  porridge,  each  having 
a  little  piece  of  sodden  meat.  And  when  the  table  was  served,  the  servants  did  sit 
down  with  us  ;  but  the  upper  mess,  instead  of  porridge,  had  a  pullet,  with  some  prunes 
in  the  broth." — {Travels,  p.  155.) 

Till  within  this  last  century,  the  farmers,  even  of  a  respectable  condition,  dined 
with  their  work-people.  The  difference  betwixt  those  of  high  degree,  was  ascertained 
by  the  place  of  the  party  above  or  below  the  salt,  or,  sometimes,  by  a  line  drawn  with 
chalk  on  the  dining  table.  Lord  Lovat,  who  knew  well  how  to  feed  the  vanity,  and 
restrain  the  appetites,  of  his  clansmen,  allowed  each  sturdy  Eraser,  who  had  tha 
slightest  pretensions  to  be  a  Duinhe-wassel,  the  full  honor  of  the  sitting,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  took  care  that  his  young  kinsmen  did  not  acquire  at  his  table  any  taste  for 
outlandish  luxuries.  His  lordship  was  always  ready  with  some  honorable  apology, 
why  foreign  wines  and  French  brandy,  delicacies  which  he  conceived  might  sap  the 
hardy  habits  of  his  cousins,  should  not  circulate  past  an  assigned  point  on  the  table. 

39.  Page  139.  In  the  Irish  ballads,  relating  to  Fion  (the  Fingal  of  MacPher. 
son),  there  occurs,  as  in  the  primitive  poetry  of  most  nations,  a  cycle  of  heroes,  each  o( 
whom  has  some  distinguishing  attribute  ;  upon  these  qualities,  and  the  adventures  ol 
those  possessing  tliem,  many  proverbs  are  formed,  which  are  still  current  in  the  High- 
lands. Among  other  characters,  Conan  is  distinguished  as  in  some  resjiccts  a  kind  of 
Tiiersites,  but  brave  and  daring  even  to  rashness.  He  had  made  a  vow  that  he  would 
never  take  a  blow  without  returning  it;  and  having,  like  othc'r  heroes  of  antiquity, 
descended  to  the  infernal  regions,  he  received  a  cuff  from  the  Arch-fiend,  wlio  presided 
there,  which  he  instantly  returned,  using  the  expression  in  the  text.  Sometimes  tha 
proverb  is  worded  thus  : — "  Claw  for  Claw,  and  the  devil  take  the  shortest  nails,  as 
Conon  said  to  the  devil." 

40.    Page  140.    The  Highland  poet  almost  always  was  an  improvisatore.    Captail 
Burt  met  one  of  them  at  Lovat's  XzbV 


426  NOTES 

41,  Page  142.  The  deiicrlption  of  the  waterfall  mentioned  in  this  chapter  is  taket 
from  that  of  Ledeard,  at  the  farm  so  called  on  the  northern  side  of  Lochard,  and  neai 
the  liead  of  the  Lake,  four  or  five  miles  from  Aberfoyle.  It  is  upon  a  small  scale,  but 
otlierwise  one  cf  the  most  exquisite  cascades  it  is  possible  to  behold.  The  appearance 
cf  Flora  with  the  Harp,  as  described,  has  been  justly  censured  as  too  theatrical  ind 
afiected  for  the  lady-like  simplicity  of  her  character.  But  something  may  be  allowed 
to  her  Frencb  education,  in  which  point  and  striking  effect  always  msJce  a  considerable 
•bject. 

42.  Page  144.  The  young  and  daring  Adventurer,  Charles  Edward,  landed  at 
Glenaladale,  in  Moidart.  and  displayed  his  standard  in  tlie  valley  of  Glenfinnan,  mus- 
tering around  it  the  Mac-Donalds,  the  Camerons,  and  other  less  numerous  clans,  whom 
he  had  prevailed  on  to  jom  him.  There  is  a  monument  erected  on  the  spot,  with  a 
Latin  inscription  by  the  late  Dr.  Gregory. 

43.  Page  144.  The  Marquis  of  Tullibardine's  elder  brother,  who,  long  exiled, 
returned  to  Scotland  with  Charles  Edward  in  1745. 

44.  Page  147.  This  ancient  Gaelic  ditty  is  still  well  known,  both  in  the  High- 
lands and  in  Ireland.  It  was  translated  into  English,  and  published,  if  I  mistake  not, 
under  the  auspices  of  the  facetious  Tom  D'Urfey,  by  the  title  of  "  Colley,  my  Cow." 

45.  Page  153.  The  thrust  from  the  tynes,  or  branches,  of  the  stag's  horns  were 
accounted  far  more  dangerous  than  those  of  the  boar's  tusk : — 

If  thou  be  hurt  with  horn  ot  stag,  it  brings  thee  to  thy  bier, 

But  barber's  hand  shall  boar's  hurt  heal ;  thereof  have  thou  no  fear. 

46.  Page  153.  This  garb,  which  resembled  the  dress  often  put  on  c'nildren  in 
Scotland,  called  a  polonie  (i.e.  polonaise},  is  a  very  ai.dent  modification  of  the  High- 
land garb.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  hauberk  or  shirt  of  mail  only  composed  of  cloth  instead 
of  rings  of  armor. 

47.  Page  153.  Old  Highlanders  will  still  make  the  deasil  around  thost  whom  they 
wish  well  to.  To  go  round  a  person  in  the  opposite  direction,  or  wither-shins  (Gtrcoisi 
wider-shins),  is  unlucky,  and  a  sort  of  incantation. 

48.  Page  154.  This  metrical  spell,  or  something  very  like  it,  is  preserved  by 
Reginald  Scott,  in  his  work  on  Witchcraft. 

49.  Page  155.     On  the  morrow  they  made  their  biers 

Of  birch  and  hazel  gray. Cheiy  Chase. 

50.  Page  155.  The  author  has  been  sometimes  accused  for  confounding  fiction 
with  reality.  He  therefore  thinks  it  necessary  to  state,  that  the  circumstance  of  the 
hiMiting  described  in  the  text  as  preparatory  to  the  insurrection  of  1745,  is,  so  far 
AS  he  knows,  entirely  imaginar)".  But  it  is  well  known  such  a  great  hunting  was  held 
in  the  Forest  of  Brae-Mar,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Earl  of  Mar,  as  preparatory  to 
the  Rebellion  of  171 5  ;  and  most  of  the  Highland  chieftains  who  afterward  engaged 
Ki  that  civil  commotion  were  present  on  this  occasion. 

51.  Page  156.  Corresponding  to  the  Lowland  saying,  "  Mony  ane  speirs  tht 
^te  they  ken  fu'  weel." 

52.  Page  178.  These  lines  form  the  burden  of  an  old  song  to  which  Bums  wrote 
additional  verses. 

53.  Page  178.     These  lines  are  also  ancient,  and  I  believe  to  the  tune  of 

We'll  never  hae  peace  till  Jamie  comes  hame ; 
1^  which  Bums  likewise  wrote  some  verses. 

54.  Page  182.    A  Highland  rhyme  on  Glencaim's  Expedition,  in  1650,  has  theM 

"  We'll  bide  a  while  among  ta  crows. 
Well  wiske  ta  sword  and  bend  ta  bows." 


NOTES.  427 

55.  PSige  182.  The  Oggam  is  a  species  of  the  old  Irish  cliaracter.  The  fdea  of 
iBe  cor/espondence  between  the  Celtic  and  tlie  Punic,  founded  on  a  scene  in  Plautus, 
was  not  started  till  General  Vallancey  set  up  liis  theory,  long  after  the  date  of  Fergus 
Mac-Ivor. 

56.  Page  183.  The  sanguine  Jacobites,  during  the  eventful  years  1745-6,  kept  up 
the  spirits  of  their  party  by  the  rumor  of  descents  from  France  on  behalf  of  tha 
Chevalier  St.  George. 

57.  Page  1S4.  The  Highlander,  in  former  times,  had  always  a  high  idea  of  hit 
trtra  gentility,  and  was  anxious  to  impress  the  same  upon  those  with  whom  he  coiv 
Versed.  His  language  abounded  in  the  plirases  of  courtesy  and  compliment ;  and  th? 
habit  of  carrying  arms,  and  mixing  with  those  who  did  so,  made  it  particularly  desira 
tile  they  should  use  cautious  politeness  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other. 

58.  Page  196.  The  Rev.  John  Erskine,  D.  D.,  an  eminent  Scottish  divine,  and 
A  most  excellent  man,  headed  the  Evangelical  party  in  the  Church  of  Scotland  at  the 
time  when  the  celebrated  Dr.  Robertson,  the  historian,  was  the  leader  nf  the  moderate 
party.  These  two  distinguished  persons  were  colleagues  in  the  Old  Gray  Friars' 
Church,  Edinburgh  ;  and,  however  much  they  differed  in  church  pohtics,  preserved 
the  most  perfect  harmony  as  private  friend?,  and  as  clergymen  serving  tlie  same  cure, 

57.  Page  232.  The  Clan  of  Mac-Farlane,  occupying  the  fastnesses  of  tha 
western  side  of  Loch  Lomond,  were  great  depredators  on  the  low  country,  and  as 
their  excursid  's  were  made  usually  by  night,  the  moon  was  proverbially  called  their 
lantern.  Their  celebrated  pibroch  of  Hoggil  nam  Bo,  which  is  the  name  of  theit 
ga,thering  tune,  intimates  simiLir  practices, — the  sense  being: — 

We  are  bound  to  drive  the  bullocks, 
All  by  hollows,  hirsts  and  hillocks, 

Through  the  sleet,  and  through  the  rain. 
When  the  moon  is  beaming  low 
On  frozen  lake  and  hills  of  snow, 
Bold  and  heartily  we  go ; 
And  all  for  little  gain. 

60.  Page  234.  This  noble  ruin  is  dear  to  my  recollection,  from  associations 
which  have  beeji  long  and  painfully  bioken.  It  holds  a  commanding  station  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  Teith,  and  has  been  one  of  the  largest  castles  in  Scotland.  Mur- 
dock,  Duke  of  Albany,  the  founder  of  this  stately  pile,  was  beheaded  on  the  Castle- 
hill  of  Stirling,  from  which  he  might  see  the  towers  of  Doune,  the  monument  of  his 
fallen  greatness. 

In  1745-6,  as  stated  in  the  text,  a  garrison  on  the  part  of  the  Chevalier  was  put 
into  the  castle,  then  less  ruinous  than  at  present.  It  was  commanded  by  Mr.  Stewart 
of  BalLoch,as  governor  for  Prince  Charles;  he  was  a  man  of  property  near  Callander. 
This  castle  became  at  that  time  the  actual  scene  of  a  romantic  escape  made  by  John 
Home,  the  author  of  Douglas,  and  some  other  prisoners,  who,  having  been  taken  at 
the  battle  of  Falkirk,  were  confined  there  by  the  insurgents.  The  poet,  who  had  m 
his  own  mind  a  large  stock  of  that  romantic  and  entiiusiastic  spirit  of  adventure,  which 
he  has  described  as  animating  the  youthful  hero  of  his  drama,  devised  and  undertook  the 
perilous  enterprise  of  escaping  from  his  prison.  He  inspired  his  companions  with 
his  sentiments,  and  when  every  attempt  at  open  force  was  deemed  hoijcless,  they 
resolved  to  twist  their  bed-clothes  into  ropes,  and  thus  to  descend.  Four  persons, 
with  Home  himself,  reached  the  ground  in  safety.  Rut  the  rope  broke  with  thfi  fifth, 
who  was  a  tall  lusty  man.  The  sixth  was  Thomas  Barrow,  a  brave  young  English* 
man,  a  particular  friend  of  Home's.  Determinud  to  take  the  risk,  even  in  such  unfavor- 
able circumstances,  Barrow  committed  himself  to  the  broken  rope,  slid  down  on  it  as  faJ" 
as  it  could  assist  him,  and  then  let  himself  drop.  His  friends  beneath  succeeded  m 
breaking  his  fall.  Nevertheless,  he  dislocated  iiis  ankle,  and  had  several  of  his  ribs 
broken.     His  companions,  however,  were  able  to  bear  him  off  in  safety. 

The  Highlanders  next  morning  sought  for  tlieir  prisoners,  with  great  aeHyity. 


428 


NOTES 


An  eld  gentleman  told  the  author,  he  remembered  seeing  the  commander  Stewart^ 

Bloody  with  spurring,  fiery  red  with  haste, 
tiding  furiously  through  the  country  in  quest  of  the  fugitives. 

6i.  Pa^e  238.  The  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Session  in  Scotland  art 
proverbially  termed,  among  the  country  people,  the  Fifteen. 

62.  Page  23S.  To  go  ottt,  or  to  have  been  02tf,  in  Scotland,  was  a  conventional 
phrase  similar  to  that  of  the  Irish  respecting  a  man  having  baen  up,  both  having  a 
reference  to  an  individual  who  had  been  engaged  in  insurrection.  It  was  accounted 
ill-breeding  in  Scotland,  about  forty  years  since,  to  use  the  phrase  rebellion  or  rebel^ 
which  might  be  interpreted  by  some  of  the  parties  present  as  a  personal  insult.  It 
was  also  esteemed  more  polite  even  for  stanch  Whigs  to  denominate  Charles  Edward 
the  Chevalier,  than  to  speak  of  him  as  the  Pretender;  and  this  kind  of  accommodat- 
ing courtesy  was  usually  observed  in  society  where  indi\'iduals  of  each  party  mixed  on 
friendly  terms, 

63.  Page  244.  The  Jacobite  sentiments  were  general  among  the  western 
counties,  and  in  Wales.  But  although  the  great  families  of  the  Wynnes,  the  Wynd- 
hams,  and  others,  had  come  under  an  actual  obligation  to  join  Prince  Charles  if  he 
should  land,  they  had  done  so  imder  the  express  stipulation,  that  he  should  be 
assisted  by  an  auxiliary-  army  of  French,  without  which  they  foresaw  the  enterprise 
would  be  desperate.  Wishing  well  to  his  cause,  therefore,  and  watching  an  oppor- 
tunity to  join  him,  they  did  not,  nevertheless,  think  themselves  bound  in  honor  to  da 
so,  as  he  was  only  supported  by  a  body  of  wild  mountaineers,  speaking  an  uncouth 
dialect,  and  wearing  a  singular  dress.  The  race  up  to  Derby  struck  them  with  moit 
dread  than  admiration.  But  it  was  difficult  to  say  what  the  effect  might  have  been, 
had  either  the  battle  of  Preston  or  Falkirk  been  fought  and  won  during  the  advance 
into  England. 

64.  Page  247.  Divisions  early  showed  themselves  in  the  Chevalier's  little  army, 
not  only  among  the  independent  chieftains,  who  were  far  too  proud  to  brook  subjection 
to  each  other,  but  between  the  Scotch,  and  Charles's  governor  O'SulIivan,  an  Irishman 
by  birth,  who,  with  some  of  his  countPi-men  bred  in  the  Irish-Brigade  in  the  service  o( 
the  king  of  France,  had  an  influence  with  the  Adventurer,  much  resented  by  the 
Highlanders,  who  were  sensible  that  their  own  clans  made  the  chief  or  rather  the 
only  strength  of  his  enterprise.  There  was  a  feud,  also,  between  Lord  George  Mur- 
ray, and  John  Murray  of  Broughton,  the  Prince's  secretary,',  whose  disunion  greatly 
embarrassed  the  affairs  of  the  Adventurer.  In  general,  a  thousand  different  preten- 
sions divided  their  little  army,  and  finally  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  its  over- 
throw. 

65.  Page  255.  The  Doutelle  was  an  armed  vessel,  which  brought  a  small  supply 
of  money  and  arms  from  France  for  the  use  of  the  insurgents. 

66.  Page  256.  Old  women,  on  whom  devolved  the  duty  of  lamenting  for  th« 
dead,  which  the  Irish  call  Keenning. 

67.  Page  257.  These  lines,  or  something  like  them,  occur  in  an  old  Magaziae  W 
*e  period. 

68.  Page  258.    /.  e.,  Contiguous. 

69.  Page  262.     They  occur  in  Miss  Seward's  fine  verses,  beginning— 

"  To  thy  rocks,  stormy  Lannow,  adieu." 

70.  Page  264,  Wliich  is,  or  was  wont  to  be,  the  eld  air  of  "  Good  nigh^  and  Joy 
be  wi'  you  a'l" 

71.  Page  265.  The  main  body  of  the  Highland  army  encamped,  or  rathaf 
bivouacked,  in  that  part  of  the  King's  Park  which  lies  towards  the  vilkgp  of  Dud 
tfogiton. 


NOTES.  429 

72.  Page  269.  This  circumstance,  which  is  historical,  as  well  as  the  description 
ihat  precedes  it,  will  remind  the  reader  of  tlie  war  of  La  Vendee,  in  which  the  royal- 
ists, consisting  chiefly  of  insurgent  peasantry,  attaclied  a  prodigious  and  even  super- 
stitious interest  to  tlie  possession  of  a  piece  of  brass  ordnance,  which  they  called 
Marie  Jeane. 

The  Highlanders  of  an  early  period  were  afraid  of  cannon,  with  the  noise  and 
effect  of  which  they  were  totally  unacquainted.  It  was  by  means  of  three  or  four 
small  pieces  of  artillery,  that  the  Earls  of  Huntly  and  Errol,  in  James  VI. 's  time, 
gained  a  great  victory  at  Glenlivat,  over  a  numerous  Highland  army,  commanded  by 
the  Earl  of  Argyle.  At  the  battle  of  the  Bridge  of  Dee,  General  Middleton  obtained 
by  liis  artillery  a  similar  success,  the  Highlanders  not  being  able  to  stand  the  discharge 
©f  Mtcskefs  A/other,  which  was  the  name  they  bestowed  on  great  guns.  In  an  old 
6allad  on  the  battle  of  the  Bridge  of  Dee,  these  verses  occur  ;— 

The  Highlandmen  are  pretty  men 

For  handling  sword  and  shield, 
But  yet  they  are  but  simple  men 

To  stand  a  stricken  field. 

The  Highlandmen  are  pretty  men 

For  target  and  claymore, 
But  yet  they  are  but  nal<;ed  mea 

To  face  tlie  cannon's  roar. 

For  the  canrion's  roar  on  a  summer's  nigh 

Like  thunder  in  the  air ; 
Was  never  man  in  Highland  garb 

Would  face  the  cannon  fair. 

But  the  Highlanders  of  1745  had  got  far  beyond  the  simplicity  of  their  forefathers, 
and  showed  tiirougliout  the  whole  war  how  little  t]««y  dreaded  artillery,  although  the 
common  people  still  attached  some  consequence  to  the  possession  of  the  field-piece 
which  led  to  this  disquisition. 

"jT,.  Page  270.  Bran,  the  well-known  dog  of  Fingal,  is  often  the  theme  of  High- 
land proverb  as  well  as  song. 

74.  Page  273.     Scottice  for  followers. 

75.  Page  280.  The  faithful  friend  who  pointed  out  the  pass  by  which  the  High- 
landers moved  from  Tranent  to  Seaton,  was  Robert  Anderson,  junioi',  of  Whitburgh, 
a  gentleman  of  property  in  East  Lotliian.  He  had  been  interrogated  by  the  Lord 
George  Murray  concerning  the  possibility  of  crossing  the  uncouth  and  marshy  piece 
of  ground  which  divided  the  armies,  and  which  he  described  as  impracticable.  When 
dismissed,  he  recollected  tliat  tb.ere  was  a  circuitous  path  leading  eastward  tlirough 
the  marsh  into  the  plain,  by  wliich  the  Highlanders  might  turn  tlie  flank  of  Sir  John 
Cope's  position,  without  being  exposed  to  the  enemy's  fire.  Having  mentioned  hi» 
opinion  to  Mr.  Hepburn  of  Keith,  who  instantly  saw  its  importance,  he  was  encour- 
aged by  that  gentleman  to  awake  Lord  George  Murray,  and  communicate  the  idea  to 
him.  Lord  George  received  the  information  witli  grateful  thanks,  and  instantly 
awakened  Prince  Charles,  who  was  sleeping  in  th»  field  with  a  bunch  of  pease  undet 
his  head.  The  Adventurer  received  with  alacrity  the  news  that  there  was  a  possi- 
bility of  bringing  an  excellently  provided  army  to  a  decisive  battle  with  his  own 
irregular  forces.  His  joy  on  the  occasion  was  not  very  consistent  witli  the  charge  of 
cowardice  brought  against  him  by  Clievalier  Johnstone,  a  discontented  fullowei^ 
whose  Memoirs  possess  at  least  as  much  of  a  romantic  as  an  liistorical  character. 
Even  by  the  account  of  the  Chevalier  himself,  the  Prince  was  at  the  licad  of  tha 
second  line  of  the  Highland  army  during  tiie  battle,  of  which  lie  says,  "  It  was  gained 
with  such  rapidity,  that  in  the  second  line,  where  I  was  still  by  the  side  of  tlic  Prince, 
we  saw  no  other  enemy  than  those  who  were  lying  on  the  ground  killed  and  wounded, 
though  -we  were  not  more  than  Jlfty  paces  behind  our  first  line,  running  always  as 
fast  as  we  could  to  overtake  them." 

This  passage  in  the  Chevalier's  Me^l'^irs  places  the  Prince  within  fiftv  paces  (rf 


»30 


NOTES. 


the  heal  af  thebattTe,  a  position  which  would  pcvcr  have  been  the  choice  of  otH 
unwilling  to  take  a  share  of  us  dangers.  Indeed,  unless  the  chiefs  liad  complied  with 
the  young  Adventurer's  proposal  to  lead  the  van  in  person,  it  docs  not  appear  that  ho 
could  have  been  deeper  in  the  action. 

76.  Pasce  283,  The  death  of  this  good  Christian  and  gallant  man  is  thus  given 
by  liis  affectionate  biographer,  Dr.  Doddridge,  from  the  evidence  of  eye-witnesses. 

"  He  continued  all  night  under  arms,  wrapped  up  in  his  cloak,  and  generally  shel 
tered  under  a  rick  of  barley,  which  happened  to  be  in  the  field.  About  three  in  the 
tnorning  he  called  his  domestic  servants  to  him,  of  which  there  were  four  in  waiting 
He  dismissed  three  of  them  with  most  affectionate  Christian  advice,  and  such 
solemn  charges  relating  to  the  performance  of  their  duty,  and  the  care  of  their  souls 
as  seemed  plainly  to  intimate  that  he  apprehended  it  was  at  least  very  probable  he 
was  taking  his  last  farewell  of  them.  There  is  great  reason  to  believe  that  he  spent 
the  little  remainder  of  the  time,  which  could  not  be  much  above  an  hour,  in  those 
devout  exercises  of  soul  which  had  been  so  long  habitual  to  him,  and  to  which  so 
many  circumstances  did  then  concur  to  call  him.  The  army  was  alarmed  by  break  of 
day,  by  the  noise  of  the  rebels'  approach,  and  the  attack  was  made  before  sunrise  yet 
when  it  was  light  enough  to  discern  what«passed.  As  soon  as  the  enemy  came  within 
gun-shot,  they  made  a  furious  fire ;  and  it  is  said  that  the  dragoons  which  constituted 
the  left  wing,  immediately  fled.  The  colonel,  at  the  beginning  of  the  onset,  which  in 
the  whole  lasted  but  a  few  minutes,  received  a  wound  by  a  bullet  in  his  left  breast, 
which  made  him  give  a  sudden  spring  in  his  saddle ;  upon  which  his  servant,  who  led 
the  horse,  would  have  persuaded  him  to  retreat,  but  he  said  it  was  only  a  wound  in 
the  flesh,  and  fought  on,  though  he  presently  afterwards  received  a  shot  in  his  right 
tliigh.  In  the  mean  time  it  was  discerned  that  some  of  the  enemy  fell  by  him,  and 
particularly  one  man,  who  had  made  him  a  treacherous  visit  but  a  few  days  before, 
Rith  great  profession  of  zeal  for  the  present  establishment. 

"  Events  of  this  kind  pass  in  less  time  than  the  description  of  them  can  be  written, 
or  than  it  can  be  read.  The  colonel  was  for  a  few  moments  supported  by  his  men, 
and  particularly  by  that  worthy  person  Lieutenant-Colonel  Whitney,  who  was  shot 
through  the  arai  here,  and  a  few  months  after  fell  nobly  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  and 
by  Lieutenant  West,  a  man  of  distinguished  bravery,  as  also  by  about  fifteen  dra- 
goons, who  stood  hy  him  to  the  last.  But  after  a  faint  fire,  the  regunant  in  general 
was  seized  with  a  panic ;  and  though  their  Colonel  and  some  other  gallant  officers  did 
what  they  could  to  rally  them  once  or  twice,  tliey  at  last  took  a  precipitate  flight. 
And  just  in  the  moment  when  Colonel  Gardiner  seemed  to  be  makmg  a  pause  to 
deliberate  what  duty  required  him  to  do  in  such  circumstances,  an  accident  happened, 
which  must,  I  think,  in  the  judgment  of  every  worthy  and  generous  man,  be  allowed 
a  sufficient  apology  for  exposing  his  life  to  so  great  a  hazard,  when  his  regiment  had 
left  him.  He  saw  a  party  of  the  foot,  who  were  then  bravely  fighting  near  him,  and 
whom  he  was  ordered  to  support,  had  no  officer  to  head  them  ;  upon  which  he  said 
eagerly,  in  the  hearin  ■  f  the  person  from  whom  I  had  this  account,  '  These  brave  fel- 
lows w^ill  be  cut  to  pi  s  lor  want  of  a  commander,'  or  words  to  that  effect ;  which 
while  he  was  speaking,  he  rode  up  to  them  and  cried  out  '  Fire  on,  my  lads,  and  fear 
nothing,'  But  just  as  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth,  a  Highlander  advanced 
towards  him  with  a  scythe  fastened  to  a  long  pole,  with  which  he  gave  him  so  dread-> 
iu\  a  wound  on  his  right  arm,  that  his  sword  dropped  out  of  his  hand  ;  and  at  the  same 
time  several  others  coining  about  him  while  he  was  thus  dreadfully  entangled  with 
that  cruel  weapon,  he  was  dragged  off  from  his  horse.  The  moment  he  fell,  another 
II  Mander,  who,  if  the  king's  evidence  at  Carlisle  may  be  credited,  (as  I  know  not 
w;,- they  should  rjot,  though  the  unhappy  creature  ched  denying  it.)  was  one  Mae 
Naught,  who  was  executed  about  a  year  after,  gave  him  a  stroke  either  with  a  broad 
sword  or  a  Lochaber-axe  (for  my  informant  could  not  exactly  distinguish)  on  the 
hinder  part  of  his  head,  which  was  the  mortal  blow.  All  that  his  faithful  attendant 
saw  further  at  this  time  was,  that  as  his  hat  was  falling  off,  he  took  it  in  his  left 
nand  and  waved  it  as  a  signal  to  him  to  retreat,  and  added,  what  were  the  last  words 
he  ever  heard  him  speak, '  Take  care  of  yourself ; '  upon  which  the  servant  retired."— 
Some  remarkable  Passages  in  the  Life  of  Colonel  James  Gardiner,  by  P.  Dad' 
fridge,  D.  D.     London,  1747,  p.  1S7. 

\  may  remark  on  this  extract,  that  it  confirms  the  account  given  in  the  text  of  ^tA 


J\rOT£S.  431 

resistance  offered  by  some  of  the  English  infantry.  Surprised  by  a  force  of  a  pt  c  iliai 
ind  unusual  description,  their  opposition  could  not  be  long  or  formidable,  espccKillji 
as  they  were  deserted  by  the  cavalry,  and  those  who  undertook  to  manage  the  artillery. 
But  although  the  affair  was  soon  decided,  1  have  always  understood  that  many  of  the 
Uitantry  showed  an  inclination  to  do  their  duty. 

77.  Page  284.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that  the  character  of  this  brutal 
young  Laird  is  entirely  imaginary.  A  gentleman,  however,  who  resembled  Balma- 
vvhapple  in  the  article  of  courage  only,  fell  at  Preston  in  the  manner  described.  A 
Perthshire  gentleman  of  high  honor  and  respectability,  one  of  the  handful  of  cavalry 
who  followed  the  fortunes  of  Charles  Edward,  pursued  the  fugitive  dragoons  almost 
dione  till  near  St.  Clement's  Well,  where  the  efforts  of  some  of  the  o.Ticers  had  pre- 
vailed on  a  few  of  them  to  make  a  momentary  stand.     Perceivmg  at  this  moment 

hat  they  were  pursued  by  only  one  man  and  a  couple  of  servants,  they  turned  upon 
him  and  cut  hun  down  with  their  swords.  I  remember,  when  a  child,  sittiiig  on  his 
grave,  where  the  grass  long  grew  rank  and  green,  distinguishing  it  from  the  rest  of 
the  field.  A  female  of  the  family  then  residing  at  St.  Clement's  Well  used  to  tell 
me  the  tragedy  of  which  she  had  been  an  eye-witness,  and  showed  me  m  evidence  one 
of  the  silver  clasps  of  the  unfortunate  gentleman's  waistcoat. 

78.  Page  293.  Charles  Edward  took  up  his  quarters  after  the  battle  at  Pinkie^ 
bouse,  adjoining  to  Musselburgh. 

79  Page  204.  The  name  of  Andrea  de  Ferrara,  is  inscribed  on  all  the  Scottish 
broadswords  which  are  accounted  of  peculiar  excellence.  Who  this  artist  was,  what 
were  his  fortunes,  and  when  he  flourished,  have  hitherto  defied  the  researches  of 
antiquaries  ,  only  it  is  in  genera!  believed  that  Andrea  de  Ferrara  was  a  Spanish  01 
Italian  artificer,  brought  over  bv  James  the  IV.  or  V.  to  instruct  the  Scots  in  *he 
manufacture  of  sword  blades.  Most  barbarous  nations  excel  in  the  fabricatic.  A 
arms  ;  and  the  Scots  had  attained  great  proficiency  ia  forging  swords,  so  early  as  irie 
field  of  Pinkie  :  at  which  period  the  historian  Patten  describes  them  as  "all  notably 
broad  and  thin,  universally  made  to  slice,  and  of  such  exceeding  good  temper,  that  as 
I  never  saw  any  so  good,  so  I  think  it  hard  to  devise  better." — {Account  of  Somer- 
set's  Expedition  ) 

It  maybe  observed,  that  the  best  and  most  genuine  Andrea  Ferraras  have  a  crown 
marked  on  the  blades. 

80.  Page  297.  The  clergyman's  name  wns  Mac- Vicar.  Protected  by  the  cannon 
of  the  Castle,  he  preached  every  Sunday  in  the  West  Kirk,  while  the  Highlanders 
were  in  possession  of  Edinburgh  ,  and  it  was  in  presence  of  some  of  the  Jacobites 
that  he  prayed  for  Prince  Charles  Edward  in  the  terms  quoted  in  the  text. 

81.  Page  298.  The  incident  here  said  to  have  happened  to  Flora  Mac-Ivor, 
actually  befell  Miss  Nairnc,  a  lady  with  whom  the  author  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
acquainted.  As  the  Highland  army  rushed  into  Pklinburgh,  Miss  Nairne,  like  other 
ladies  who  approved  of  their  cause,  stood  waving  her  handkerchief  from  a  balcony, 
when  a  ball  from  a  Highlander's  musket,  which  was  discharged  by  accident,  grazec 
hei-  I'.rcliead.  "  Thank  God,"  said  she,  the  instant  she  recovered,  "  that  the  accidenl 
ha])pened  to  me,  whose  principles  are  known.  Had  it  befallen  a  Whig,  they  wouW 
nave  said  it  was  done  on  purpose." 

82.  Page  337.  The  Author  of  Waverley  has  been  charged  with  painting  tht 
young  Adventurer  in  colors  more  amiable  than  his  character  deserved.  But  having 
known  many  individuals  who  were  near  his  person,  he  has  been  described  according 
to  the  light  in  which  those  eye-witnesses  saw  his  temper  and  qualifications.  Soma, 
thing  must  be  allowed,  no  doubt,  to  the  natural  exaggerations  of  those  who  remem- 
bered him  as  the  bold  and  adventurous  Prince,  in  whose  cause  they  had  braved  death 
and  niin ;  but  is  their  evidence  to  give  place  entirely  to  that  of  a  single  malecontentf 

1  have  already  noticed  the  imputaiions  thrown  by  the  Chevalier  Johnstone  on  the 
Princ'j's  courage.  But  some  part  at  Icust  of  that  gentleman's  tr'"  is  purely  romantic. 
It  would  not,  for  instance,  be  supposed,  that  at  the  time  he  is  favoring  us  with  the 
highly  wrought  account  of  liis  amour  with  the  adorable  I'eggie,  tiie  Chevalier  John*- 


43* 


NOTES. 


tone  was  a  married  man,  whose  grandchild  is  now  aHve,  or  that  t!»e  wfuAe  drCTMBstaa 
tial  story  concerning  the  outrageous  vengeance  taken  by  Gordon  of  Abbachie  on  a 
Presbyterian  clergyman,  is  entirely  apocryplial.  At  the  same  time  it  may  be  ao- 
mitted,  that  the  Prince,  like  others  of  his  family,  did  not  esteem  the  services  done 
him  by  his  adherents  so  highly  as  he  ought.  Educated  in  high  ideas  of  his  heredit 
ary  right,  he  has  been  supposed  to  have  held  every  exertion  and  sacrifice  made  in  his 
cause  as  too  much  the  duty  of  the  person  making  it,  to  merit  extravagant  gratitude  on 
his  part.  Dr.  King's  evidence  (which  his  leaving  the  Jacobite  interest  renders  some 
what  doubtful)  goes  to  strengthen  this  opinion. 

The  ingenious  editor  of  Johnstone's  Memoirs  has  quoted  a  story  said  to  be  told  by 
Helvetius,  stating  tl\at  Prince  Charles  Edward,  far  from  voluntarily  embarking  on  his 
daring  expedition,  was  literally  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  to  which  he  seems  disposed 
to  yield  credit.  Now,  it  being  a  fact  as  well  known  as  any  in  his  history,  and,  so  far 
Rs  I  know,  entirely  undisputed,  that  the  Prince's  personal  entreaties  and  urgency 
positively  forced  Boisdale  and  Lochiel  into  insiu-rection,  when  they  were  earnestly 
desirous  that  he  would  put  off  his  attempt  until  he  could  obtain  a  sufficient  force 
from  France,  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  reconcile  his  alleged  reluctance  to  undertake 
the  expedition,  with  his  desperately  insisting  on  carrying  the  rising  into  effect,  against 
the  advice  and  entreaty  of  his  most  powerful  and  most  sage  partisans.  Surely  a  man 
who  had  been  carried  bound  on  board  the  vessel  which  brought  him  to  so  desperate 
an  enterprise,  would  have  taken  the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  reluctance  of  his  par- 
tisans, to  return  to  France  in  safety. 

It  is  averred  in  Johnstone's  Memoirs,  that  Charles  Edward  left  the  field  of  Cullo- 
den  without  doing  the  utmost  to  dispute  the  victory ;  and,  to  give  the  evidence  on  both 
sides,  there  is  in  existence  the  most  trusty-worthy  testimony  of  Lord  Elcho,  who 
states,  that  he  himself  earnestly  exhorted  the  Prince  to  charge  at  the  head  of  the  left 
wing,  which  was  entire,  and  retrieve  the  day  or  die  with  honor.  And  on  his  coimsel 
being  dechned,  Lord  Elcho  took  leave  of  him  with  a  bitter  execration,  swearing  he 
would  never  look  on  his  face  again,  and  kept  his  word. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  almost  all  the  other  offi- 
cers, that  the  day  was  irretrievably  lost,  one  wing  of  the  Highlanders  being  entirely 
routed,  the  rest  of  the  army  out-numbered,  out-flanked,  and  in  a  condition  totally 
hopeless.  In  this  situation  of  things,  the  Irish  officers  who  surroundeti  Charles's 
person  interfered  to  force  him  off  the  field.  A  Comet,  who  was  close  to  the  Prince, 
left  a  strong  attestation,  that  he  had  seen  Sir  Thomas  Sheridan  seize  the  bridle  of  his 
horse,  and  turn  him  round.  There  is  some  discrepancy  of  evidence ;  but  tb.e  opinion 
of  Lord  Elcho,  a  man  of  fiery  temper,  and  desperate  at  the  ruin  which  he  beheld  im- 
pending, cannot  fairly  be  taken,  in  prejudice  of  a  character  for  courage  which  is  inti- 
mated by  the  nature  of  the  enterprise  itself,  by  the  Prince's  eagerness  to  fight  on  all 
occasiens,  by  his  determination  to  advance  from  Derby  to  London,  and  by  the  pres- 
ence of  mind  which  he  manifested  during  the  romantic  perils  of  his  escape.  The 
author  is  far  from  claiming  for  this  unfortunate  person  the  praise  due  to  splendid 
talents ;  but  he  continues  to  be  of  opinion,  that  at  the  period  of  his  enterprise,  he  had 
a  mind  capable  of  facing  dc/iger  and  aspiring  to  fame. 

That  Charles  Edward  had  £he  advantages  of  a  graceful  pres«ice,  courtesy,  and 
an  address  and  manner  becoming  his  station,  the  author  never  heard  disputed  by  any 
vvho  approached  his  person,  nor  does  he  conceive  that  these  qualities  are  overcharged 
in  the  present  attempt  to  sketch  his  portrait.  The  following  extracts  corroborative 
of  the  general  opinion  respecting  the  Prince's  amiable  disposition,  are  taken  from  a 
manuscript  account  of  his  romantic  expedition,  by  l;-.mes  Maxwell  of  Kirkconnell,  of 
which  I  possess  a  copy,  by  the  friendship  of  J.  Merizies,  Esq.,  of  Pitfoddells.  The 
author,  though  partial  to  the  Prince,  whom  he  faithfully  followed,  seems  to  have  been 
a  fair  and  candid  man,  and  well  acquainted  with  the  intrigues  among  the  Adventurers 
council : — 

"  Every  body  was  mightily  taken  with  the  Prince's  figure  a»d  personal  behaviot, 
There  was  but  one  voice  about  them.  Those  whom  interest  or  prejudice  made  * 
runaway  to  his  cause,  could  not  help  acknowledging  that  they  wished  him  well  in  all 
other  respects,  and  could  hardly  blame  him  for  his  present  undertaking  Sundry 
things  had  concurred  to  aise  his  character  to  the  lushest  pitch.  b"-j''r.  Ilie  rrcatness 
of  the  enterprise,  and  the  conduct  that  had  hitherto  appeared  in  ths  er.ccution  of  it. 
Thers  T^ere  ssvexJ  instances  of  .a0o.-i-na.Uxr2  arid  Lu-ra-.ity  ±a.;  h^^  .i^J-  ^  ^riat  iia 


NOTES.  433 

pression  on  people's  minds,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  two  or  three.  Immediately 
after  the  battle,  as  the  Prince  was  riding  along  the  ground  that  Cope's  army  had 
occupied  a  few  minutes  before,  one  of  the  officers  came  up  to  congratulate  him,  and 
said,  pointing  to  the  killed,  'Sir,  there  are  your  enemies  at  your  feet.'  The  Prince 
far  from  exulting,  expressed  a  great  deal  of  compassion  for  his  father's  deluded  sul> 
jects,  whom  he  declared  he  was  heartily  sorry  to  see  in  that  posture.  Next  day,  whiU 
the  Prince  was  at  Pinkie-house,  a  citizen  of  Edinburgli  came  to  make  some  reprcsen 
tation  to  Secretary  Murray  about  the  tents  that  city  was  ordered  to  furnish  against  a 
lertain  day.  Murray  happened  to  be  out  of  the  way,  which  the  Prince  hearing  of, 
called  to  have  the  gentleman  brought  to  him,  saying  he  would  ratlier  despatch  the 
business,  whatever  it  was,  himself,  than  have  the  gentleman  wait,  which  he  did  by 
granting  everything  tliat  was  asked.  So  much  affability  in  a  young  prince,  flushed 
with  victory,  drew  encomiums  from  his  enemies.  But  what  gave  the  people 
the  highest  idea  of  him,  was  the  negative  he  gave  to  a  thing  that  very  nearly  con- 
cerned his  interest,  and  upon  which  the  success  of  his  enterprise  perhaps  depende;'.. 
It  was  proposed  to  send  one  of  the  prisoners  to  London,  to  demand  of  that  court  a 
cartel  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners  taken,  and  to  be  taken,  dunng  this  war,  and  to 
intimate  that  a  refusal  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  resolution  on  their  part  to  give  no 
quarter.  It  was  visible  a  cartel  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  the  Prince's  affairs  ; 
his  friends  would  be  more  ready  to  declare  for  him  if  they  had  nothing  to  fear  but  the 
chance  of  war  in  the  field  ;  and  if  the  Court  of  London  refused  to  settle  a  cartel,  the 
Prince  was  authorized  to  treat  his  prisoners  in  the  same  manner  the  Elector  of  Han- 
aver  was  determined  to  treat  such  of  the  Prince's  friends  as  might  fall  into  his  hands : 
it  was  urged  that  a  few  examples  would  compel  the  court  of  London  to  comply.  It 
was  to  be  presumed  that  the  officers  of  the  English  army  would  make  a  point  of  it. 
They  had  never  engaged  in  the  service,  but  upon  such  terms  as  are  in  use  among  all 
civilized  nations,  and  it  could  be  no  stain  upon  their  honor  to  lay  down  thiir  commis- 
sions if  these  terms  were  not  observed,  and  that  owing  to  the  obstinacy  of  their  own 
Prince.  Though  this  scheme  was  plausible,  and  represented  as  very  important,  the 
Prince  could  never  be  brought  into  it ;  it  was  below  him,  he  said,  to  make  empty 
threats,  and  he  would  never  put  such  as  those  into  execution  ,  he  would  never  in  cold 
blood  take  away  lives  which  he  had  saved  in  heat  of  action,  at  the  peril  of  his  own. 
These  were  not  the  only  proofs  of  good-nature  the  Prince  gave  about  this  time. 
Every  day  produced  something  new  of  this  kind.  These  thmgs  softened  the  rigour 
of  a  military  government,  which  was  only  imputed  to  the  necessity  of  his  affairs,  and 
which  he  endeavored  to  make  as  gentle  and  easy  as  possible." 

It  has  been  said,  that  the  Prince  sometimes  exacted  more  state  and  ceremonials 
than  seemed  to  suit  his  conditions ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  some  strictness  of 
etiquette  was  altogether  indispensable  where  he  must  otherwise  have  been  exposed  to 
general  intrusion.  He  could  also  endure,  with  a  good  grace,  the  retorts  which  his 
affectation  of  ceremony  sometimes  exposed  him  to.  It  is  said,  for  example,  that 
Grant  of  Glenmoriston  having  made  a  hasty  march  to  join  Charles,  at  the  head  of  his 
clan,  ruihed  into  the  Prince's  presence  at  Holyrood,  with  unceremonious  haste,  with- 
out having  attended  to  the  duties  of  the  toilet.  The  Prince  received  Iiim  kindh',  but 
not  without  a  hint  that  a  previous  interview  with  the  barber  might  not  have  been 
(Wholly  unnecessary.  "  It  is  not  beardless  jjoys,  answered  the  displeased  Chief,  "  who 
are  to  do  your  Royal  Highness's  turn."  The  Chevalier  took  the  rebuke  in  good 
part. 

On  the  whole,  if  Prince  Charles  had  concluded  his  life  soon  after  his  miraculous 
39cape,  his  character  in  history  must  have  stood  very  high.  As  it  was,  his  station  is 
among  those,  a  certain  brilliant  portion  of  whose  life  forms  a  remarkable  contrast  to 
all  which  precedes,  and  all  which  follows  it, 

83.  Page  344,  The  following  account  of  the  skirmish  at  Clifton  is  extracted 
from  the  manuscript  Memoirs  of  Evan  Macpherson  of  Cluny,  Chief  of  the  clan  Mac 
pherson,  who  had  the  merit  of  supporting  the  principal  brunt  of  that  spirited  affair. 
The  Memoirs  appear  to  have  been  composed  about  1755,  only  ten  years  after  the 
action  had  taken  place.  They  were  written  in  France,  where  that  gallant  chief 
resided  in  exile,  which  accounts  for  some  Gallicisms  which  occur  in  the  narrative. 

"  In  the  Prince's  return  from  Derby  back  towards  Scotland,  my  Lord  George 
Murray,  Lieutenant-General,  cheerfully  changed  himself  with  the  mnrnind  of  th? 


♦34 


NOTES. 


rear ;  a  post,  which,  although  honourable,  was  attended  with  great  danger,  raan^ 
difficulties,  and  no  small  fatigue :  for  the  Prince  being  apprehensive  tiiat  liis  retreat 
to  Scotland  might  be  cut  off  by  Marischall  Wade,  who  lay  to  the  northward  of  him 
with  an  army  much  superior  to  wliat  II.  R.  II.  had,  while  the  Duke  of  Comberland 
with  his  whole  cavalrie  followed  hard  in  the  rear,  was  obliged  to  hasten  his  marches. 
It  was  not,  therefore,  possible  for  the  artiliric  to  nurcli  so  fast  as  the  Prince's  army,  in 
tlie  depth  of  winter,  extremely  bad  weather,  and  the  worst  roads  in  England :  so 
Lord  George  Murray  was  obliged  often  to  continue  his  marches  long  after  it  was  dark, 
almost  every  night,  wliile  at  the  same  time  lie  had  frequent  allarms  and  disturbances 
from  the  Duke  of  Comberland's  advanc'd  parties.  Towards  the  evening  of  tlie 
twentie-eighth  December,  1745,  the  Prince  entered  the  town  of  Penrith,  in  the  Prov- 
ince  of  Comberland.  But  as  Lord  George  Murray  could  not  bring  up  the  artilirie  so 
fast  as  he  vvou'd  have  wish'd,  he  was  oblig'd  to  pass  the  night  six  mile*  short  of  that 
town,  together  with  the  regiment  of  MacDonel  of  Glengarrie,  which  that  day  hap- 
pened to  have  the  arrear  guard.  The  Prince,  in  order  to  refresh  hit  armie,  and  to 
give  My  Lord  George  and  the  artilirie  time  to  come  up,  resolved  tc  sejour  the  29th  at 
Penrith  ;  so  ordered  his  little  army  to  appear  in  the  morning  under  arms,  in  order  to 
be  reviewed,  and  to  know  in  what  manner  the  numbers  stood  frcLfl  his  haveing  entered 
England.  It  did  not  at  that  time  amount  to  5000  foot  in  ail,  vith  about  400  cavahie. 
compos'd  of  the  noblesse  who  serv'd  as  volunteers,  part  of  t/hom  form'd  a  first  troop 
of  guards  for  the  Prince,  under  the  command  of  My  Lorl  Elchoe,  now  Comte  de 
Weems,  who,  being  proscribed,  is  presently  in  France.  A  pother  part  formed  a  second 
troop  of  guards  under  the  command  of  My  Lord  Balmiiino,  who  was  beheaded  at  the 
Tower  of  London.  A  third  party  serv'd  under  My  Lc/d  le  Comte  de  Kilmarnock, 
who  was  likewise  beheaded  at  the  Tower.  A  fourth  part  serv'd  under  My  Lord 
Pitsligo,  who  is  also  proscribed  ;  which  cavalrie,  tho'  very  few  in  numbers  oeing  all 
Noblesse,  were  very  brave,  and  of  infinite  advantage  tj  the  foot,  not  only  ia  the  day 
of  battle,  but  in  serving  as  advanced  guards  on  the  several  marches,  and  in  patroliag 
dureing  the  night  on  the  different  roads  which  led  towards  the  towns  where  the  army 
happened  to  quarter. 

"  While  this  small  army  was  out  in  a  body  on  the  29th  December,  upon  a  riseing 
ground  to  the  northward  of  Penrith,  passing  review,  Mons.  de  Cluny,  with  his  tribe^ 
was  ordered  to  the  bridge  of  Clifton,  about  a  mile  to  southward  of  Peccith,  after  hav- 
ing pass'd  in  review  before  Mons.  PattuUo,  who  was  charged  with  the  inspection  of 
the  troops,  and  was  likewise  Quarter  Master  General  of  the  army,  and  is  now  in 
France.  They  remained  under  arms  at  the  Bridge,  waiting  the  arrival  of  My  Lord 
George  Murray  with  the  artilirie,  whom  Mons.  de  Cluny  had  orders  to  cover  in 
passing  the  bridge.  They  arrived  about  sunset  closely  pursued  by  the  Duke  of  Com. 
berland  with  the  whole  bodie  of  his  cavalrie,  reckoned  upwards  of  3000  strong,  about 
a  thousand  of  whom,  as  near  as  might  be  computed,  dismounted,  in  order  to  cut  off 
the  passage^  of  the  artilirie  towards  the  bridge,  while  the  Duke  and  the  others  re- 
mained on  horseback  in  order  to  attack  the  rear.  My  Lord  George  Murray  advanced, 
and  although  he  found  Mons.  de  Cluny  and  his  tribe  in  good  spirits  under  arms,  yet 
the  circumstance  appear'd  extremely  delicate.  The  numbers  were  vastly  unequal!, 
and  the  attack  seem'd  very  dangerous ;  so  My  Lord  George  declin'd  giving  orders  to 
such  time  as  he  ask'd  Mons.  de  Cluny's  opinion.  'I  will  attack  them  with  all  my 
■heart,' says  Mons.  de  Cluny,  *  if  you  order  me.'  'I  do  order  it  then,' answered  My 
Lord  George,  and  immediately  went  on  himself  along  with  Mons.  de  Cluny,  and 
fought  sword  in  hand  on  foot,  at  the  head  of  the  single  "tribe  of  Macphersons.  They 
in  a  moment  made  their  way  through  a  strong  hedge  of  thorns,  under  the  cover 
whereof  the  cavalrie  had  taken  their  station,  in  their  struggle  of  passing  which  hedge 
My  Lord  George  Murray,  being  dressed  C7i  montagnarJ,  as  all  the  wniy  were,  lost 
his  bonnet  and  wig ;  so  continued  to  fight  bear-headed  during  the  aftion.  They  at 
first  made  a  brisk  discharge  of  their  fire  arms  on  the  enemy,  then  attaiked  them  with 
their  sabres,  and  made  a  great  slaughter  a  considerable  time,  which  obliged  Comber- 
land and  his  cavalrie  to  fly  with  precipitation  and  in  great  confusion  f  »n  so  much, 
that  if  the  Prince  had  been  provided  in  a  sufficient  number  of  cavalrie  to  have  taken 
advantage  of  the  disorder,  it  is  beyond  question  that  the  Duke  of  C  )naberl»nd  and  the 
bulk  of  his  cavalrie  had  been  taken  prisoners.  By  this  time  it  wa  go  dark  that  it  was 
not  possible  to  view  or  number  the  slain  who  filled  all  the  ditchef  which  happened  to 
^  or  t*>e  ground  where  they  stood,    j^m  tt  was  computed  that  besides  *i»Q&a  viiha 


NOTES. 


435 


Went  off  wounded,  upwards  of  a  hundred  at  least  were  left  on  the  spot,  among  whom 
was  Colonel  Honywood,  who  commanded  the  dismounted  cavalrie,  whose  sabre  of 
considerable  value  Mens,  de  Cluny  brought  off  and  still  preserves  ;  and  his  tribe  lyke- 
ways  brought  off  many  arms  ; — The  Colonel  was  afterwards  taken  up,  and  his  wounds 
being  dress'd,  with  great  difficultie  recovered.  Mons.  de  Cluny  lost  only  in  the  action 
twelve  men,  of  whom  some  haveing  been  only  wounded,  fell  afterwards  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  and  were  sent  as  slaves  to  America,  whence  several  of  tliem  returned, 
and  one  of  them  is  now  in  France,  a  sergeant  in  the  Regiment  of  Royal  Scots.  How 
soon  the  accounts  of  the  enemies'  approach  had  reached  the  Prince,  H.  R.  H.  had 
immechately  ordered  Mi-Lord  le  Comte  de  Nairne,  Brigadier,  who,  being  proscribed, 
is  now  in  France,  with  the  tliree  batalions  of  the  Duke  of  Athol,  the  batalion  of  the 
Duke  of  Perth,  and  some  other  troops  under  his  command,  in  order  to  support  Cluny, 
and  to  bring  off  the  artilirie.  But  the  action  was  entirely  over,  before  the  Count  de 
Nairne,  with  lu's  command,  cou'd  reach  nigh  ti  the  place.  They  therefor .  return'd 
all  to  Penrith,  and  the  artilirie  marched  up  in  good  order.  Nor  did  the  Duke  of 
Comberland  ever  afterwards  dare  to  come  within  a  day's  march  of  the  Prince  and  liis 
army  dureing  the  course  of  all  that  retreat,  which  was  conducted  with  great  prudence 
and  safety  when  in  some  manner  surrounded  by  enemies." 

84.  Page  356.  As  the  heathen  deities  contracted  an  indelible  obligation  if  they 
swore  by  Sty.\,  the  Scottish  Highlanders  had  usually  some  peculiar  solemnity  attached 
to  an  oath,  which  they  intended  should  be  binding  on  them.  Very  frequently  it  con- 
bisted  in  laying  their  hands,  as  they  swore,  on  their  own  drawn  dirk ;  which  dagger, 
becoming  a  party  to  the  transaction,  was  invoked  to  punish  any  breach  of  faith.  But 
by  whatever  ritual  the  oath  was  sanctioned,  the  party  was  extremely  desirous  to  keep 
secret  what  the  especial  oath  was,  which  he  considered  as  irrevocable.  This  was  a  mat- 
ter of  great  convenience,  as  he  felt  no  scruple  in  breaking  his  asseveration,  when  made 
in  any  other  form  than  that  which  he  accounted  as  peculiarly  solenm  ;  and  therefore 
readily  granted  anv  engagement  which  bound  him  no  longer  than  he  inclined.  Wheri.. 
as,  if  the  oath  which  he  accounted  inviolable  was  once  publicly  known,  no  party  with 
whom  he  might  have  occasion  to  contract,  would  have  rested  satisfied  with  any  other. 

.ouis  XI.  of  France  practised  the  same  sophistry,  for  he  also  had  a  peculiar  species 
..f  oath,  the  only  one  which  he  was  ever  known  to  respect,  and  which,  therefore,  he 
was  very  unwilling  to  pledge.  The  only  engagement  which  that  wily  tyrant  accounted 
binding  upon  him,  was  an  oath  by  the  Holy  Cross  of  Saint  Lo  d'Angers,  which  con- 
tained a  portion  of  the  True  Cross.  If  he  prevaricated  after  taking  this  oath,  Louia 
believed  he  should  die  within  the  year.  The  Constable  St.  Paul,  being  invited  to  a 
personal  conference  with  Louis,  refused  to  meet  the  king  unless  he  would  agree  to 
ensure  him  safe  conduct  under  sanction  of  this  oath.  But,  says  Comines,  the  king  re- 
plied, he  would  never  again  pledge  that  engagement  to  mortal  man,  tliough  he  was 
willing  to  take  any  other  oath  which  could  be  devised.  The  treaty  broke  off,  there- 
fore,  after  much  chaffering  concerning  the  nature  of  the  vow  which  Louis  was  to  take. 
Such  is  the  difference  between  thp  ^lictates  of  superstition  and  those  of  conscience. 

85.  Page  365.  A  pair  of  cl-.estnut-trees,  destroyed,  the  one  entirely,  and  the 
other  in  part,  by  such  a  mischievous  and  wanton  act  of  revenge,  grew  at  Invergarry 
Castk,  the  fastness  of  MacDonakl  of  Glengarry. 

86.  Page  366.  The  first  three  couplets  are  from  an  old  ballad  called  the  Ba  ^ 
Widow's  Lament, 


43^ 


ATOTES. 


NOTE  TO  PREFACE,  THIRD  EDITION,  p.  6. 

A  homely  metrical  narrative  of  the  events  of  the  period,  which  con 
tains  some  striking  particulars,  and  is  still  a  great  favorite  with  the  lower 
classes,  gives  a  very  correct  statement  of  the  behavior  of  the  mountaineers 
respecting  this  same  military  license ;  and  as  the  verses  are  little  known, 
and  contain  some  good  sense,  we  venture  to  insert  them 

THE  author's  address  TO  ALL  IN  GENERAL- 


Now,  gentle  readers,  I  have  let  you  ken 
My  very  thoughts,  from  heart  and  pen, 
*Tis  needless  for  to  conten' 

Or  yet  controule, 
For  there's  not  a  word  o't  I  can  men' — 

So  ye  must  thole. 

For  on  both  sides,  some  were  not  good  ; 
I  saw  them  murd'ring  in  co'd  blood. 
Not  the  gentlemen,  iDut  wild  and  rude. 

The  baser  sort, 
Who  to  the  wounded  lia'  i^o  mood 

But  niuai  riiig  sportl 

Ev'n  both  at  Preston  and  Falkirk, 
That  fatal  night  ere  it  grew  mirk, 
Piercing  the  wounded  with  their  durk, 

Caused  many  cry  I 
Such  pity's  shown  from  Savage  and  Turk 

As  peace  to  die. 

A  woe  be  to  such  hot  zeai, 

To  smite  the  wounded  on  the  fiell  t 

It's  just  they  got  such  groats  in  kail, 

Who  do  the  same. 
I'  only  teaches  crueltys  real 

To  them  again. 

I've  seen  the  men  call'd  Highland  Rogues, 
Wkh  Lowland  men  mak^  shang;s  a  brogs, 
Sup  kail  and  brose,  and  fling  the  cogs 

Out  at  the  door. 
Take  cocks,  hens,  sheep,  and  hogs. 

And  pay  nought  for. 

'  saw  a  Highlander,  'twas  right  drole, 
With  a  string  of  puddings  hung  on  a  pole, 
Whipp'd  o'er  his  shoulder,   skipped  like   a 
fole, 

Caus'd  Magc>'  bann, 
Lap  o'er  the  midden  and  midden-hole. 

And  afE  he  ran. 

When   check'd   for   this,  they'd  often    tell 

ye— 
Indeed  ker  nainselVs  a  tume  belly  ; 
You'll  no  gie't  wanting  bought,  nor  sell  me  ; 

Hersell  will  hae't ; 
%a  tell  King  Shorge,  and  Shordy's  Willi*. 
I'll  bae  a  meat. 


I  saw  the  soldiers  at  Linton-brig, 
Because  the  man  was  not  a  Whig, 
Of  meat  and  drink  leave  not  a  skig. 

Within  his  door  ; 
They  bunit  his  veiy  hat  and  wig, 

Ai.d  thump'd  him  sore. 

And    through  the   Highlands  they   were  iM 

rude. 
As  leave  them  neither  clothes  nor  food. 
Then  burnt  their  houses  to  conclude  \ 

'Twas  tit  for  tat. 
How  can  her  naitisell  e'er  be  good. 

To  think  on  that? 

And  -fter  all,  O  shame  and  grief! 

1  o  use  sorr.e  worse  than  murd'ring  thie 

Their  very  gentleman  and  chief, 

Unhumaiiiy! 
Like  Popish  tortures,  I  believe. 

Such  cruelty. 

Ev'n  what  was  act  on  open  stage 
At  Carlisle,  in  the  hottest  rage. 
When  mercy  was  clapt  m  a  cage, 

And  pity  dead. 
Such  cruelty  approv'd  by  every  age, 

I  shook  my  head. 

So  many  to  curse,  so  few  to  pray. 
And  some  aloud  huzza  did  cry  ; 
They  cursed  the  rebel  Scots  that  day, 

As  they'd  been  nowt 
Brought  up  for  slaughter,  as  that  waj 

Too  many  rowt. 

Therefore,  alas !  dear  countrymen, 

O  never  do  the  like  again, 

To  thirst  for  vengeance,  never  ben* 

Your  gun  nor  pa'* 
But  with  the  English  e'en  borrow  and  lea* 

Let  anger  fa*. 

There    boasts   and  bullying,    not  wortb   8 

louse, 
As  our  King's  the  best  about  the  house, 
'Tis  aye  good  to  be  sober  and  douce. 

To  live  in  peace  ; 
For  many,  I  see,  for  being  o'er  crouse. 

Gets  broken  iace. 


APPENDIX. 


GENERAL  PREFACE,  p.  9,  No.  I.* 

FRAGMENT  OF  A   ROMANCE  WHICH  WAS  TO  HAVE  BEEN   ENTITLMI 

THOMAS  THE  RHYMER. 

Chapter   First. 

The  sun  was  nearly  set  behind  the  distant  mountains  of  Liddesdale,  whe» 
a  few  of  the  scattered  and  terrified  inhabitants  of  the  village  of  Hersil- 
doune,  which  had  four  days  before  been  burned  by  a  predatory  band  of 
English  Borderers,  were  now  busied  in  repairing  their  ruined  dwellings. 
One  high  tower  in  the  centre  of  the  village  alone  exhibited  no  appearance 
of  devastation.  It  was  surrounded  with  court  walls,  and  the  outer  gate 
was  barred  and  bolted.  The  bushes  and  branches  which  grew  around, 
and  had  even  insinuated  their  branches  beneath  the  gate,  plainly  showed 
that  it  must  have  been  many  years  since  it  had  been  opened.  While  the 
cottages  around  lay  in  smoking  ruins,  this  pile,  deserted  and  desolate  as 
it  seemed  to  be,  had  suffered  nothing  from  the  violence  of  the  invaders ; 
and  the  wretched  beings  who  were  endeavoring  to  repair  their  miserable 
huts  against  nightfall,  seemed  to  neglect  the  preferable  shelter  which  it 
might  have  afforded  them,  without  the  necessity  of  labor. 

Ikfore  the  day  had  quite  gone  down,  a  knight,  richly  armed,  an<J 
mounted  upon  an  ambling  hackney,  rode  slowly  into  the  village.  His  at- 
tendants  were  a  lady,  apparently  young  and  beautiful,  who  rode  by  his 
side  upon  a  dappled  palfrey:  his  sc^uire,  who  carried  his  helmet  and  lance, 
and  led  his  battle-horse,  a  noble  steed,  richly  caparisoned.  A  page  and 
font  yeomen,  bearing  bows  and  quivers,  short  swords,  and  targets  of  a 
span  breadth,  completed  his  equipage,  which,  though  small,  denoted  him 
to  be  a  man  of  high  rank. 

He  stopped  and  addressed  several  of  the  inhabitants  whom  curiosity 
had  withdrawn  from  their  labor  to  gaze  at  him  ;  but  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  and  still  more  on  perceiving  the  St.  George's  Cross  in  the  caps  of 
his  followers,  they  fled,  with  a  loud  cry,  "that  the  Southrons  were  rC' 
turned.'  The  knight  endeavored  to  expostulate  with  the  fugitives,  who 
were  chiefly  aged  men,  women,  and  children  ;  but  tlnir  dread  of  the  Eng- 
lish name  accelerated  their  flight,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  excepting  the 
knight  and  his  attendants,  the  place  was  deserted  by  all.  He  paced  through 
the  village  to  seek  a  shelter  for  the  night,  and  dcsjiairing  to  find  one  either 
in  the  inaccessible  tower,  or  the  plundered  huts  of  the  peasantry,  he 
directed  his  course  to  the  left  hand,  where  he  spied  a  small  decent  habita- 
tion, apparently  the  abode  of  a  man  considerably  above  the  common  rank. 
After  much  knocking,  the  proprietor  at  length  showed  himself  at  the  win- 

*  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  tliese  fragments  are  given  as  possessing  any  intrinsic 
value  of  themselves  ;  but  tliere  ma^  be  some  cuiiosity  attached  to  them,_  as  to  the  firil 
etchings  of  a  plate,  which  are  accounted  interesting  by  those  who  have,  in  anjrdegr«% 
been  interested  in  the  more  finished  vcork*  of  the  artist. 


438  APPENDIX. 

dow,  and  speaking  in  the  English  dialect,  with  great  signs  of  apprehension, 
demanded  their  business.  The  warrior  replied,  that  his  quality  was  an 
English  knight  and  baron,  and  that  he  was  travelling  to  the  court  of  the 
King  of  Scotland  on  affairs  of  consequence  to  both  kingdoms. 

"  Pardon  my  hesitation,  noble  Sir  Knight,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  un- 
bolted and  unbarred  his  doors — "  Pardon  my  hesitation,  but  we  are  here 
exposed  to  too  many  intrusions,  to  admit  of  our  exercising  unlimited  and 
unsuspicious  hospitality.  What  I  have  is  yours;  and  God  send  your 
mission  mav  bring  back  peace  and  the  good  days  of  our  old  Queen 
Margaret !  " 

"Amen,  worthy  Franklin,"  quoth  the  Knight — "Did  you  know  her?" 

"  I  came  to  this  country  in  her  train,"  said  the  Franklin  ;  "and  the  care 
of  some  of  her  jointure  lands,  which  she  devolved  on  me,  occasioned  my 
settling  here." 

"  And  how  do  you,  being  an  Englishman,"  said  the  Knight,  "  protect 
your  life  and  property  here,  when  one  of  your  nation  cannot  obtain  a  single 
night's  lodging,  or  a  draught  of  water,  were  he  thirsty?" 

"  Marry,  noble  Sir,"  answered  the  Franklin,  "  use,  as  they  say,  will  make 
a  man  live  in  a  lion's  den;  and  as  I  settled  here  in  a  quiet  time,  and  have 
never  given  cause  of  offence,  I  am  respected  by  my  neighbors,  and  even, 
as  you  see,  by  owe  forayers  from  England." 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  and  accept  your  hospitality. — Isabella,  my  love,  our 
worthy  host  will  provide  you  a  bed. — My  daughter,  good  Franklin,  is  ill  at 
ease.  We  will  occupy  your  house  till  the  Scottish  king  shall  return  from 
his  northern  expedition — meanwhile  call  me  Lord  Lacy  of  Chester." 

The  attendants  of  the  Baron,  assisted  by  the  Franklin,  were  now  busied 
m.  disposing  of  the  horses,  and  arranging  the  table  for  some  refreshment  for 
Lord  Lacy  and  his  fair  companion.  While  they  sat  down  to  it,  they  were 
attended  by  their  host  and  his  daughter,  whom  custom  did  not  permit  to 
eat  in  their  presence,  and  who  afterwards  withdrew  to  an  outer  chamber, 
where  the  squire  and  page  (both  young  men  of  noble  birth)  partook  of 
supper,  and  were  accommodated  with  beds.  The  yeomen,  after  doing 
honor  to  the  rustic  cheer  of  Queen  Margaret's  bailiff,  withdrew  to  the 
stable,  and  each,  beside  his  favorite  horse,  snored  away  the  fatigues  of 
their  journey. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  the  travellers  were  roused  by  a  thunder* 
ing  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  house,  accompanied  with  many  demands 
for  instant  admission,  in  the  roughest  tone.  The  squire  and  page  of  Lord 
Lacy,  after  buckling  on  their  arms,  were  about  to  sally  out  to  chastise  these 
intruders,  when  the  old  host,  after  looking  out  at  a  private  casement,  con- 
trived for  reconnoitring  his  visitors,  entreated  them,  with  great  signs  of 
terror,  to  be  quiet,  if  they  did  not  mean  that  all  in  the  house  should  be 
murdered. 

He  then  hastened  to  the  apartment  of  Lord  Lacy,  whom  he  met  dressed 
in  a  long  furred  gown  and  the  knightly  cap  called  a  mort:er,  irritated  at  the 
noise,  and  demanding  to  know  the  cause  which  had  disturbed  the  repose  of 
the  household. 

"  Noble  sir,"  said  the  Franklin,  "  one  of  the  most  formidable  and  bloody 
of  the  Scottish  Border  riders  is  at  hand — he  is  never  seen,"  added  he, 
faltering  with  terror,  "  so  far  from  the  hills,  but  with  some  bad  purpose,  and 
the  power  of  accomplishing  it ;  so  hold  yourself  to  your  guard,  for " 

A  loud  crash  here  announced  that  the  door  was  broken  down,  and  the 
knight  just  descended  the  stair  in  time  to  prevent  bloodshed  betwixt  his 
attendants  and  the  intruders.  They  were  three  in  number.  Their  chief 
was  tall,  bony,  and  athletic;  his  spare  and  muscular  frame,  as  well  as  thj 


APPENDIX.  43^ 

hardness  of  his  features,  marked  the  course  of  his  life  to  have  been  fatiguing 
and  perilous.  The  effect  of  his  appearance  was  aggravated  by  his  dress, 
which  consisted  of  a  jack  or  jacket,  composed  of  thick  buff  leather,  on 
which  small  plates  of  iron  of  a  lozenge  form  were  stitched,  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  overlap  each  other,  and  form  a  coat  of  mail,  which  swayed  with  every 
motion  of  the  wearer's  boc^.  This  defensive  armor  covered  a  doublet  ol 
coarse  gray  cloth,  and  the  Borderer  had  a  few  half-rusted  plates  of  steel  on 
his  shoulders,  a  two-edged  sword,  with  a  dagger  hanging  beside  it,  in  a  buff 
belt;  a  helmet,  with  a  few  iron  bars,  to  cover  the  face  instead  of  a  visor, 
and  a  lance  of  tremendous  and  uncommon  length,  completed  his  appoint- 
ments. The  looks  of  the  man  were  as  wild  and  rude  as  his  attire — his  keen 
black  eyes  never  rested  one  moment  fixed  upon  a  single  object,  but  con- 
stantly traversed  all  around,  as  if  they  ever  sought  some  danger  to  oppose, 
some  plunder  to  seize,  or  some  insult  to  revenge.  The  latter  seemed  to  be 
his  present  object,  for,  regardless  of  the  dignified  presence  of  Lord  Lacy,  he 
Httered  the  most  incoherent  threats  against  the  owner  of  the  house  and  his 
guests. 

"  We  shall  see — ay,  marry  shall  we — if  an  English  hound  is  to  harbor 
and  reset  the  Southrons  here.  Thank  the  Abbot  of  Melrose,  and  the  good 
Knight  of  Coldingnow,  that  have  so  long  kept  me  from  your  skirts.  But 
those  days  are  gone,  by  St.  Mary,  and  you  shall  find  it ! " 

It  is  probable  the  enraged  Borderer  would  not  have  long  continued  to 
vent  his  rage  in  empty  menaces,  had  not  the  entrance  of  the  four  yeomen, 
with  their  bows  bent,  convinced  him  that  the  force  was  not  at  this  moment 
on  his  own  side. 

Lord  Lacy  now  advanced  towards  him.  "  You  intrude  upon  my  privacy, 
soldier;  withdraw  yourself  and  your  followers — there  is  peace  betwixt  our 
nations,  or  my  servants  should  chastise  thy  presumption." 

"  Such  peace  as  ye  give,  such  shall  ye  have,"  answered  the  moss-trooper, 
first  pointing  with  his  lance  towards  the  burned  village,  and  then  almost 
instantly  levelling  it  against  Lord  Lacy.  The  squire  drew  his  sword,  and 
severed  at  one  blow  the  steel  head  from  the  truncheon  of  the  spear. 

"Arthur  Fitzherbert^"  said  the  Baron,  "that  stroke  has  deferred,  thy 
knighthood  for  one  year — never  must  that  squire  wear  the  spurs,  whose 
unbridled  impetuosity  can  draw  unbidden  his  sword  in  the  presence  of  his 
master.     Go  hence,  and  think  on  what  I  have  said." 

The  squire  left  the  chamber  abashed. 

"  It  were  vain,"  continued  Lord  Lacy,  "  to  expect  that  courtesy  from  a 
mountain  churl  which  even  my  own  followers  can  forget.  Yet,  before  thou 
drawest  thy  brand  (for  the  intruder  laid  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword), 
thou  wilt  do  well  to  reflect  that  I  came  with  a  safe-conduct  from  thy  king, 
and  have  no  time  to  waste  in  brawls  with  such  as  thou." 

"  From  my  king — from  my  king  !  "  re-echoed  the  mountaineer.  "I  care 
not  that  rotten  truncheon  (striking  the  shattered  spear  furiously  on  the 
ground)  for  the  King  of  Fife  and  Lothian.  But  Habby  of  Cessford  will  be 
here  l^elive ;  and  wc  shall  soon  know  if  he  will  permit  an  English  churl  to 
occupy  his  hostclrie." 

Having  uttered  these  words,  accompanied  with  a  lowering  glance  from 
under  his  shaggy  black  eye-brows,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left  the  house 
with  his  two  followers  ; — they  mounted  their  horses,  which  they  had  tied  to 
an  outer  fence,  and  vanished  in  an  instant. 

"  Who  is  this  discourteous  ruffian  ?  "  said  Lord  Lacy  to  the  Franklin,  who 
had  stood  in  the  most  violent  agitation  during  this  whole  scene. 

"  His  name,  noble  lord,  is  Adam  Kerr  of  the  Moat,  but  he  is  commonly 
called  by  his  companions  the  Black  Rider  of  Cheviot.    I  fear*  I  fear(  fag 


440 


APPENDIX. 


comes  hither  for  no  good — but  if  the  Lord  of  Cessford  be  near,  he  will  not 
dare  offer  anv  unprovoked  outrage." 

"  I  ha\  e  heard  of  that  chief,"  said  the  Baron — "  let  me  know  when  he 
approaches,  and  do  thou,  Rodulph  (to  the  eldest  yeoman),  keep  a  strict 
watch.  Adelbert  (to  the  page),  attend  to  arm  me."  The  page  bowed,  aud 
the  Baron  withdrew  to  the  chamber  of  the  Lady  Isabella,  to  explain  th« 
cause  of  the  disturbance. 


No  more  of  the  proposed  tale  was  ever  written  ;  but  the  author's  pur- 
pose was,  that  it  should  turn  upon  a  fine  legend  of  superstition,  wliich  is 
current  in  the  part  of  the  Borders  where  he  had  his  residence  ;  where,  in 
the  reign  of  Alexander  III.  of  Scotland,  that  renowned  person  Thomas  of 
Hersildoune,  called  the  Rhvmer,  actually  flourished.  This  personage,  the 
Merlin  of  Scotland,  and  to  whom  some  of  the  adventures  which  the  British 
bards  assigned  to  Merlin  Caledonius,  or  the  Wild,  have  been  transferred  by 
tradition,  was,  as  is  well  known,  a  magician,  as  well  as  a  poet  and  prophet 
He  is  alleged  still  to  live  in  the  land  of  Faery,  and  is  expected  to  return  at 
some  great  convulsion  of  society,  in  which  he  is  to  act  a  distinguished  part 
— a  tradition  common  to  all  nations,  as  the  belief  of  the  Mahomedans  re- 
specting their  twelfth  Imaum  demonstrates. 

Now,  it  chanced  many  years  since,  that  there  lived  on  the  Borders  a  jolly, 
rattling  horse-cowper,  who  was  remarkable  for  a  reckless  and  fearless  tem- 
per, which  made  him  much  admired,  and  a  little  dreaded,  amongst  his  neigh- 
bors. One  moonlight  night,  as  he  rode  over  Bowden  Moor,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Eildon  Hills,  the  scene  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer's  prophecies, 
and  often  mentioned  in  his  story,  having  a  brace  of  horses  along  with  him 
which  he  had  not  been  able  to  dispose  of,  he  met  a  man  of  venerable  ap- 
pearance, and  singularly  antique  dress,  who,  to  his  great  surprise,  asked  the 
price  of  his  horses,  and  began  to  chaffer  with  him  on  the  subject.  To 
Canobie  Dick,  for  so  shall  we  call  our  Border  dealer,  a  chap  was  a  chap, 
and  he  would  have  sold  a  horse  to  the  devil  himself,  without  minding  his 
cloven  hoof,  and  would  have  probably  cheated  Old  Nick  into  the  bargain. 
The  stranger  paid  the  price  they  agreed  on,  and  all  that  puzzled  Dick  in 
the  transaction  was,  that  the  gold  which  he  received  was  in  unicorns,  bonnet- 
pieces,  and  other  ancient  coins,  which  would  have  been  invaluable  to  col- 
lectors, but  were  rather  troublesome  in  modern  currency.  It  was  gold,  how- 
ever, and  therefore  Dick  contrived  to  get  better  value  for  the  coin,  than  he 
perhaps  gave  to  his  customer.  By  the  command  of  so  good  a  merchant,  he 
brought  horses  to  the  same  spot  more  than  once ;  the  purchaser  only  stipu- 
lating that  he  should  always  come  by  night,  and  alone.  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  from  mere  curiosity,  or  whether  some  hope  of  gain  mixed 
with  it,  but  after  Dick  had  sold  several  horses  in  this  way,  he  began  to  com- 
plain that  dry  bargains  were  unlucky,  and  to  hint,  that  since  his  chap  must 
live  in  the  neighborhood,  he  ought,  in  the  courtesy  of  dealing,  to  treat  him 
to  half-a-mutchkin. 

"You  may  see  my  dwelling  if  you  will,"  said  the  stranger;  "but  if  yoo 
lose  courage  at  what  you  see  there,  you  will  rue  it  all  your  life." 

Dicken,  however,  laughed  the  warning  to  scorn,  and  having  alighted  to 
secure  his  horse,  he  followed  the  stranger  up  a  narrow  foot-path,  which  led 
them  up  the  hills  to  the  singular  eminence  stuck  betwixt  the  most  southern 
and  the  centre  peaks,  and  called  from  its  resemblance  to  such  an  animal  in 
its  form,  the  Lucken  Hare.  At  the  foot  of  this  eminence,  which  is  almost 
as  famous  for  witch  meetings  as  the  neighboring- windmill  of  Kippilaw, 
Dick  was  somewhat  startled  to  observe  that  his  conductor  entered  the  kiU 


APPENDIX.  441 

•ide  by  a  passage  or  cavern,  of  which  he  himself,  though  well  acquainted 
with  the  spot,  had  never  seen  or  heard. 

"  Vou  may  still  return,"  said  his  guide,  looking  ominously  back  upon 
him  ; — but  Dick  scorned  to  show  the  white  feather,  and  on  they  went.  They 
entered  a  very  long  range  of  stables ;  in  every  stall  stood  a  coal-black 
horse  ;  by  every  horse  lay  a  knight  in  coal-black  armor,  witn  a  drawn  sword 
■".n  his  hand ;  but  all  were  as  silent,  hoof  and  limb,  as  if  they  had  been  cut 
out  of  marble.  A  great  number  of  torches  lent  a  gloomy  Instre  to  the  hall, 
which,  like  those  of  the  Caliph  Vathek,  was  of  large  dimensions.  At  tha 
upper  end,  however,  they  at  length  arrived,  where  a  sword  and  horn  lay  on 
an  antique  table. 

"  He  that  shall  sound  that  horn  and  diaw  that  sword,"  said  the  stranger, 
who  now  intimated  that  he  was  the  famous  Thomas  of  Ilersildoune,  "  shall, 
if  his  heart  fail  him  not,  be  king  over  all  broad  Britain.  So  speaks  the 
tongue  that  cannot  lie.  But  all  depends  on  courage,  and  much  on  your  tak- 
ing the  sword  or  the  horn  first." 

Dick  was  much  disposed  to  take  the  sword,  but  his  bold  spirit  was 
quailed  by  the  supernatural  terrors  of  the  hall,  and  he  thought  to  unsheath 
the  sword  first,  might  be  construed  into  defiance,  and  give  offence  to  the 
powers  of  the  Mountain.  He  took  the  bugle  with  a  trembling  hand,  and 
a  feeble  note,  but  loud  enough  to  produce  a  terrible  answer.  Thunder 
rolled  in  stunning  peals  through  the  immense  hall ;  horses  and  men  started 
to  life  ;  the  steeds  snorted,  stamped,  grinded  their  bits,  and  tossed  on  high 
their  heads — the  warriors  sprung  to  their  feet,  clashed  their  armor,  and 
brandished  their  swords.  Dick's  terror  was  extreme  at  seeing  the  whole 
army,  which  had  been  so  lately  silent  as  the  grave,  in  uproar,  and  about  to 
rush  on  him.  He  dropped  the  horn,  and  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  seize 
the  enchanted  sword  ;  but  at  the  same  moment  a  voice  pronounced  aloud 
the  mysterious  words  : — 

"  Woe  to  the  coward,  that  ever  he  was  bom, 
Who  did  not  draw  the  swoid  before  he  blew  the  horn  I " 

At  the  same  time  a  whirlwind  of  irresistible  fury  howled  through  the 
long  hall,  bore  the  unfortunate  horse-jockey  clear  out  of  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern,  and  precipitated  him  over  a  steep  bank  of  loose  stones,  where  the 
shepherds  found  him  the  next  morning,  with  just  breath  sufficient  to  tell  his 
fearful  tale,  after  concluding  which  he  expired. 

This  legend,  with  several  variations,  is  found  in  many  parts  of  Scotland 
^nd  England — the  scene  is  sometimes  laid  in  some  favorite  glen  of  the 
Highlands,  sometimes  in  the  deep  coal-mines  of  Northumberland  and  Cum. 
berland,  which  run  so  far  beneath  the  ocean.  It  is  also  to  be  found  in 
Reginald  .Scott's  i)ook  on  Witchcraft,  which  was  written  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  ask  what  was  the  original  of  the  tradition. 
The  choice  between  the  horn  and  sword  may,  perhaps,  include  as  a  moral, 
that  it  is  fool-hardy  to  awaken  danger  before  we  have  arms  in  our  hands  to 
resist  it. 

Although  admitting  of  much  poetical  ornament,  it  is  clear  that  this 
legend  would  have  formed  but  an  unhappy  foundation  for  a  prose  story,  and 
must  have  degenerated  into  a  mere  fairy  talc.  Dr.  John  Leyden  hal 
beautifully  introduced  the  tradition  in  his  Scenes  of  Infancy: — 

Mysterious  Rhymer,  doomed  by  fate's  decree, 
Still  to  revisit  Eildon's  fnted  tree  ; 
Where  oft  the  swain,  at  dawn  of  Hallow-dayj 
Hears  thy  fieet  harh  with  wild  imtiatience  ueisht 


442  APPENDIX. 


Say  who  is  he,  with  summons  long  and  high, 
Shall  bid  the  charmed  sleep  of  ages  fly. 
Roll  tlie  long  sound  through  Eudon's  caverns  vastt 
While  each  dark  warrior  kindles  at  the  blast? 
The  horn,  the  falchion  grasp  with  mighty  hand, 
And  peal  proud  Artliur  s  march  from  Fairy-land? 

Scenes  of  Infancy*  Pmrt.  /• 


In  the  same  cabinet  with  the  preceding  fragment,  the  following  occurred 

imong  other  disjecta  membra.  It  seems  to  be  an  attempt  at  a  tale  of  a 
different  description  from  the  last,  but  was  almost  instantly  abandoned. 
1  he  introduction  points  out  the  time  of  the  composition  to  have  been  about 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

THE    LORD    OF   ENNERDALE. 

IN  A  FRAGMENT  OF  A   LETTER   FROM  JOHN   B ,  ESQ.  OF  THAT 

TO   WILLIAM   G ,  F.R.S.E. 

'  Fill  a  bumper,''  said  the  Knight ;  "  the  ladies  may  spare  us  a  little 
longer — Fill  a  bumper  to  the  Archduke  Charles." 

The  company  did  due  honor  to  the  toast  of  their  landlord. 

"  The  success  of  the  Archduke,"  said  the  muddy  Vicar,  "  will  tend  to 
further  our  negotiation  at  Paris ;  and  if " 

"  Pardon  the  interruption,  Doctor,"  quoth  a  thin  emaciated  figure,  with 
somewliat  of  a  foreign  accent  ;  but  why  should  you  connect  those  events 
unless  to  hope  that  the  bravery  and  victories  of  our  allies  may  supersede 
the  necessity  of  a  degrading  treaty  1 " 

"  We  begin  to  feel,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,"  answered  the  Vicar,  with  some 
asperity,  "  that  a  continental  war  entered  into  for  the  defence  of  an  ally  who 
was  unwilling  to  defend  himself,  and  for  the  restoration  of  a  royal  family, 
nobility,  and  priesthood,  who  tamely  abandoned  their  own  rights,  is  a 
burden  too  much  even  for  the  resources  of  this  country." 

"And  was  the  war  then  on  the  part  of  Great  Britain,"  rejoined  the  Abbe, 
"  a  gratuitous  exertion  of  generosity  "i  Was  there  no  fear  of  the  wide- 
wasting  spirit  of  innovation  which  had  gone  abroad  ?  Did  not  the  laity 
tremble  for  their  property,  the  clergy  for  their  religion,  and  every  loyaj 
heart  for  the  constitution  .''  Was  it  not  thought  necessary  to  destroy  the 
building  which  was  on  fire,  ere  the  conflagration  spread  around  the 
vicinity .' " 

"  Yet,  if  upon  trial,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  the  walls  were  found  to  resist  oiu- 
utmost  efforts,  I  see  no  great  prudence  in  persevering  in  our  labor  amid  the 
smouldering  ruins." 

"  What,  Doctor,"  said  the  Baronet,  "  must  I  call  to  your  recollection 
your  own  sermon  on  the  late  general  fast  ? — did  you  not  encourage  us  to 
hope  that  the  Lord  of  Hosts  would  go  forth  with  our  armies,  and  that  our 
enemies,  who  blasphemed  him,  should  be  put  to  shame  .''  " 

"  It  may  please  a  kind  father  to  chasten  even  his  beloved  children," 
answered  the  Vicar. 

"  I  think,"  said  a  gentleman  near  the  foot  of  the  table,  "  that  the 
Covenanters  made  some  apology  of  the  same  kind  for  the  failure  of  their 
prophecies  at  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  when  their  mutinous  preachers  con* 
pelled  the  prudent  Lesley  to  go  down  against  the  Philistines  in  Gilgal." 


APPENDIX.  44^ 

The  Vicar  fixed  a  scrutinizing  and  not  a  very  complacent  eye  upon  this 
Intruder.  He  was  a  young  man  of  mean  stature,  and  rather  a  reserved  ap- 
pearance. Early  and  severe  study  had  quenched  in  his  features  the  gayety 
peculiar  to  his  age,  and  impressed  upon  them  a  premature  cast  of  thought- 
fulness.  His  eye  had,  however,  retained  its  fire,  and  his  gesture  its  anima- 
tion. Had  he  remained  silent,  he  would  have  been  long  unnoticed  ;  but 
when  he  spoke,  there  was  something  in  his  manner  which  arrested  at- 
tention. 

"Who  is  this  young  man?"  said  the  Vicar  in  a  low  voice  to  his 
tieighbor. 

"  A  Scotchman  called  Maxwell,  on  a  visit  to  Sir  Henry,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  I  thought  so,  from  his  accent  and  his  manners,"  said  the  Vicar. 

It  may  be  here  observed,  that  the  Northern  English  retain  rather  more 
of  the  ancient  hereditary  aversion  to  their  neighbors  than  their  countrymen 
of  the  South.  The  interference  of  other  disputants,  each  of  whom  urged  his 
opinion  with  all  the  vehemence  of  wine  and  politics,  rendered  the  summons 
to  the  drawing-room  agreeable  to  the  more  sober  part  of  the  company. 

The  company  dispersed  by  degrees,  and  at  length  the  Vicar  and  the 
young  Scotchman  also  remained,  besides  the  Baronet,  his  lady,  daughters, 
and  myself.  The  clergyman  had  not,  it  would  seem,  forgot  the  observation 
which  ranked  him  with'the  false  prophets  of  Dunbar,  for  he  addressed  Mr. 
Maxwell  upon  the  first  opportunity. 

"  Hem  !  I  think,  sir,  you  mentioned  something  about  the  civil  wars  ot 
last  jentury  .?  You  must  be  deeply  skilled  in  them,  indeed,  if  you  can 
draw  any  parallel  betwixt  those  and  the  present  evil  days — days  which  I 
Hm  ready  to  maintain  are  the  most  gloomy  that  ever  darkened  the  prospects 
of  Britain." 

"  God  forbid.  Doctor,  that  I  should  draw  a  comparison  between  the 
present  times  and  those  you  mention.  I  am  too  sensible  of  the  advantages 
we  enjoy  r-ver  our  ancestors.  Faction  and  ambition  have  introduced  divis- 
ion amor.g  us  ;  but  we  are  still  free  from  the  guilt  of  civil  bloodshed,  and 
from  all  the  evils  which  flow  from  it.  Our  foes,  sir,  are  not  those  of  our 
own  household  ;  and  while  we  continue  united  and  firm,  from  the  attacks  of 
a  foreign  enemy,  however  artful,  or  however  inveterate,  we  have,  I  hope, 
little  to  dread." 

"  Have  you  found  anything  curious,  Mr.  Maxwell,  among  the  dusty 
papers  .''"  said  Sir  Henry,  who  seemed  to  dread  a  revival  of  political  dis- 
cussion. 

"  My  investigation  among  them  led  to  reflections  which  I  have  just  now 
hinted,"  said  Maxwell;  "  and  I  think  they  are  pretty  strongly  exemplified 
by  a  story  which  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  arrange  from  some  of  your 
f^unily  manuscripts." 

"  Yo«  are  welcome  to  make  what  use  of  them  you  please,"  said  Sir 

llenry ;  "  they  have  been  undisturbed  for  many  a  day,  and  I  have  often 

ed  for  some  person  zs^  well  skilled  as  you  in  these  old  pot-hooks,  to  tel 

their  meaning." 

"Those  I  just  mentioned,"  answered  Maxwell,  "relate  to  a  piece  o< 
private  history,  savoring  not  a  little  of  the  marvellous,  and  intimately  con- 
nected with  your  family :  if  it  is  agreeable,  I  can  read  to  you  the  anecdotes, 
in  the  modern  shape  into  which  I  have  been  endeavormg  tn  throw  them, 
and  you  can  then  judge  of  the  value  of  the  originals." 

There  was  something  in  this  proposal  agreeable  to  all  parties.  Si« 
Henry  had  family  pride,  which  prepared  him  to  take  an  interest  in  wh\t 
eyer  related  to  his  ancestors.     The  ladies  had  dipped  deenl"  in*o  the  faijh- 


444 


APPENDIX. 


lonable  reading  of  the  present  day.  Lady  Ratcliff  and  her  fair  daughtert 
had  climbed  every  pass,  viewed  every  pine-shrouded  ruin,  heard  every  groan, 
and  Hfted  every  trap-door,  in  company  with  the  noted  heroine  of  Udoipho. 
They  had  been  heard,  however,  to  observe,  that  the  famous  incident  of  the 
Black  Veil  singularly  resembled  the  ancient  apologue  of  the  Mountain  in 
Labor,  so  that  they  were  unquestionably  critics,  as  well  as  admirers.  Be- 
side; all  this,  they  had  valorously  mounted  en  croupe  behind  the  ghostly 
horseman  of  Prague,  through  all  his  seven  translators,  and  followed  the 
footsteps  of  Moor  through  the  forest  of  Bohemia.  Moreover,  it  was  even 
hinted  (but  this  was  a  greater  mystery  than  all  the  rest),  that  a  certain  per 
tormance,  called  the  Monk,  in  three  neat  volumes,  had  been  seen,  by  a  pry 
mg  eye,  in  the  right-hand  drawer  of  the  Indian  cabinet  of  Lady  RatclifPs 
dressing-room.  Thus  predisposed  for  wonders  and  signs.  Lady  Ratcliff  and 
her  nymphs  drew  their  chairs  round  a  large  blazing  wood-fire„and  arranged 
themselves  to  listen  to  the  tale.  To  that  fire  I  also  approached,  moved 
thereunto  partly  by  the  inclemency  of  the  season,  and  partly  that  my  deaf- 
ness,  which  you  know,  cousin,  I  acquired  during  my  campaign  under  Prince 
Charles  Edward,  might  be  no  obstacle  to  the  gratification  of  my  curiosity, 
which  was  awakened  by  what  had  any  reference  to  the  fate  of  such  faithful 
followers  of  royalty,  as  you  well  know  the  house  of  Ratcliff  has  ever  been. 
To  this  wood-fire  the  Vicar  likewise  drew  near,  and  reclined  himself  "on« 
veniently  in  his  chair,  seemingly  disposed  to  testify  his  disrespect  for  the 
narration  and  narrator  by  falling  asleep  as  soon  as  he  conveniently  could. 
By  the  side  of  Maxwell  (by  the  way,  I  cannot  learn  that  he  is  in  the  least 
related  to  the  Nithsdale  family)  was  placed  a  small  table  and  a  couple  of 
tghts,  bv  the  assistance  of  which  he  read  as  follows: — 

"Journal  of  Jan  Von  Eulen. 

"On  the  6th  November  1645, 1,  Jan  Von  Eulen,  merchant  in  Rotterdam, 
embarked  with  my  only  daughter  on  board  of  the  good  vessel  Vryheid  of 
Amsterdam,  in  order  to  pass  into  the  unhappy  and  disturbed  kingdom  of 
England.  7th  November — a  brisk  gale — daughter  sea-sick — myself  unable 
to  complete  the  calculation  vvu.^;i  I  have  begun,  of  the  inheritance  left  by 
Jane  Lansache  of  Carlisle,  my  hut  dear  wife's  sister,  the  collection  of  which 
is  the  object  of  my  voyage.  8th  November — wind  still  stormy  and  adverse 
— a  horrid  disaster  nearly  happened — my  dear  child  washed  overboard  as 
the  vessel  lurched  to  leeward. — Memorandum,  to  reward  the  young  sailor 
who  saved  her,  out  of  the  first  monies  which  I  can  recover  from  the  inherit- 
ance of  her  aunt  Lansache.  9th  November — calm — P.M.  light  breezes  from 
N.N.W.  I  talked  with  the  captain  about  the  inheritance  of  my  sister-in- 
law,  Jane  Lansache. — He  .says  he  knows  the  principal  subject,  which 
will  not  exceed  ;f  1000  in  value.  JV.B.  He  is  a  cousin  to  a  family  of  Peter- 
sons, which  was  the  name  of  the  husband  of  my  sister-in-lsw  ;  so  there  is 
room  to  hope  it  may  be  worth  more  than  he  reports,  loth  November,  10 
<i.M. — May  God  pardon  all  our  sins! — An  English  frigate,  bearing  the  Par- 
liament flag,  has  appeared  in  the  oiling,  and  gives  chase. — 11  A.M.  Shi 
nears  us  every  moment,  and  the  captain  of  our  vessel  preparer  to  clear  for 
action,  —May  God  again  have  mercy  upon  us  !  " 

***** 

"  Here,"  said  Maxwell,"  "  the  journal  with  which  I  hav;  opened  thfl 
narration  ends  somewhat  abruptlv." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Ladv  Ratcliff. 

"  But.  Mr.  Maxwell,"  said  young  Frank,  Sir  Henrj''s  grandchild,  *'sbaL 
Wt  not  hear  how  the  battle  funded  ? " 


APPENDIX. 


44J5 


I  do  not  know,  cousin,  whether  I  have  not  formerly  made  you  acquai  .*ed 
irith  the  abilities  of  Frank  Ratcliff.  There  is  not  a  battle  fought  bet'veen 
the  troops  of  the  Prince  and  of  tne  government,  during  the  years  17.  jmS 
of  which  he  is  \iot  able  to  give  an  account.  It  is  true,  I  have'taken  parti.-:- 
uiar  pains  to  fix  the  events  of  this  important  period  upon  his  memory  .y 
frequent  repetition. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  Maxwell,  in  answer  to  young  Frank  Ratcliff — "  No 
my  dear,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  exact  particulars  of  the  engagement,  but  its 
consequences  appear  from  the  following  letter,  dispatched^  by  Garbonete 
Von  Eulen,  daughter  of  our  journalist,  to  a  relation  in  England,  from  whom 
she  implored  assistance.  After  some  general  account  of  the  purpose  of  the 
voyage,  and  of  the  engagement,  her  narrative  proceeds  thus  : 

"  The  noise  of  the  cannon  had  hardly  ceased,  before  the  sounds  of  a 
language  to  me  but  half  known,  and  the  confusion  on  board  our  vessel,  in- 
formed me  that  ♦ihe  captors  had  boarded  us,  and  taken  possession  of  our 
vessel.  I  went  on  deck,  where  the  first  spectacle  that  met  my  eyes  was  a 
young  man,  mate  of  our  vessel,  who,  though  disfigured  and  covered  with 
blood,  was  loaded  with  irons,  and  whom  they  weie  forcing  over  the  side  oj 
the  vessel  into  a  boat.  The  two  principal  persons  among  our  enemies  aj> 
peared  to  be  a  man  of  a  tall  thin  figure,  with  a  high-crowned  hat  and  lontf 
neckband,  and  short-cropped  head  of  hair,  accompanied  by  a  bluff  opei? 
looking  elderly  man  in  a  naval  uniform.  '  Yarely  !  yarely  !  pull  away,  m) 
hearts  I '  said  the  latter,  and  the  boat  bearing  the  unlucky  young  man  soon 
carried  him  on  board  the  frigate.  Perhaps  you  will  blame  me  for  mention- 
ing this  circumstance  ;  but  consider,  my  dear  cousin,  this  man  saved  my  life, 
and  his  fate,  even  when  my  own  and  my  father's  were  in  the  balance,  could 
Hot  but  affect  me  nearly. 

***In  the  name  of  him  who  is  jealous,  even  to  slaying  'said  the  first  " 
•  *  «  «  « 

CETERA    DESUNT. 


GENERAL  PREFACE,  p.    lo,  No.  II. 

CONCLUSION   OF   MR.   STRUTT's    ROMANCE  Ot 

QUEENHOO-HALL. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  WAVERUEY. 

Chapter  Fourth. 

A  mJNTING   PARTY — AN   ADVENTURE — A   DELIVERANCE. 

The  next  morning  the  bugles  were  sounded  by  day-break  in  the  court  of 
Lord  Botcler's  mansion,  to  call  the  inhabitants  from  their  slumbers,  to  assist 
in  a  splendid  chase,  with  which  the  l'>aron  had  resolved  to  entertain  his 
neighbor  Fitzallen,  and  his  noble  visitor  St.  Clere.  Peter  Lanaret,  the  fal- 
coner,  was  in  attendance,  with  falcons  for  the  knights,  and  tercelcts  for  the 
ladies,  if  they  should  choose  to  vary  their  sport  from  hunting  ♦^o  hawking. 
Five  stout  yeoman  keepers,  with  their  -ittendants,  called  Ragged  Robins, 


446  APPENDIX. 

all  meetly  arrayed  in  Kendal  green,  with  bugles  and  short  hangers  by  their 
sides,  and  quarterstaffs  in  their  hands,  led  the  slow  hounds  or  brachets,  by 
which  the  deer  were  to  be  put  up.  Ten  brace  of  gallant  grayhounds,  each 
of  which  was  fit  to  pluck  down,  singly,  the  tallest  red  deer,  were  led  in 
leashes  by  as  many  of  Lord  Boteler's  foresters.  The  pages,  squires,  and 
other  attendants  of  feudal  splendor,  well  attired  in  their  best  hunting-gear, 
upon  horseback  or  foot,  according  to  their  rank,  with  their  boar-spears, 
long-bows,  and  cross-bows,  were  in  seemly  waiting. 

A  numerous  train  of  yeomen,  called  in  the  language  of  the  times  re- 
tainers, who  yearly  received  a  livery  coat  and  a  small  pension  for  their  at- 
tendance on  such  solemn  occasions,  appeared  in  cassocks  of  blue,  bearing 
upon  their  arms  the  cognizance  of  the  house  of  Boteler,  as  a  badge  of  their 
adherence.  They  were  the  tallest  men  of  their  hands  that  the  neighboring 
villages  could  supply,  with  every  man  his  good  buckler  on  his  shoulder, 
and  a  bright  burnished  broadsword  dangling  from  his  leathern  belt.  On  this 
occasion  they  acted  as  rangers  for  beating  up  the  thickets,  and  rousing  the 
game.     These  attendants  filled  up  the  court  of  the  castle,  spacious  as  it  was 

On  the  green  without,  you  might  have  seen  the  motley  assemblage  of 
peasantry,  convened  by  report  of  the  splendid  hunting,  including  most  of 
our  old  acquaintances  from  Tewin,  as  well  as  the  jolly  partakers  of  good 
cheer  at  Hob  Filcher's.  Gregory  the  jester,  it  may  well  be  guessed,  had 
no  great  mind  to  exhibit  himself  in  public  after  his  recent  disaster ;  but 
Oswald  the  steward,  a  great  formalist  in  whatever  concerned  the  public 
exhibition  of  his  master's  household  state,  had  positively  enjoined  his  attend- 
ance. "  What ! "  quoth  he,  "  shall  the  house  of  the  brave  Lord  Boteler,  on 
such  a  brave  day  as  this,  be  without  a  fool  ?  Certes,  the  good  Lord  St. 
Clere,  and  his  fair  lady  sister,  might  think  our  housekeeping  as  niggardly  as 
that  of  their  churlish  kinsman  at  Gay  Bowers,  who  sent  his  father's  jester  to 
th.i  hospital,  sold  the  poor  sot's  bells  for  hawk-jesses,  and  made  a  nightcap 
of  his  long-eared  bonnet.  And,  sirrah,  let  me  see  thee  fool  handsomely — 
speak  squibs  and  crackers  instead  of  that  dry,  barren,  musty,  gibing  which 
thou  hast  used  of  late  ;  or,  by  the  bones  !  the  porter  shall  have  thee  to  his 
lodge,  and  cob  thee  with  thine  own  wooden  sword,  till  thy  skin  is  as  motley 
as  thy  doublet." 

To  this  stern  injunction  Gregory  made  no  reply,  any  more  than  to  the 
courteous  offer  of  old  Albert  Drawslot,  the  chief  park-keeper,  who  proposed 
to  blow  vinegar  in  his  nose  to  sharpen  his  wit,  as  he  had  done  that  blessed 
morning  to  Bragger,  the  old  hound,  whose  scent  was  failing.  There  was 
indeed  little  time  for  reply,  for  the  bugles,  after  a  lively  flourish,  were  now 
silent,  and  Peretto,  with  his  two  attendant  minstrels,  stepping  I^eneath  the 
windows  of  the  strangers'  apartments,  joined  in  the  following  roundelay,  the 
deep  voices  of  the  rangers  and  falconers  making  up  a  chorus  that  caused 
the  very  battlements  to  ring  again. 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay ! 

On  the  mountain  dawns  the  day  \ 

All  the  jolly  chase  is  here, 

With  hawk  and  horse,  ard  hunting  spear 

Hounds  are  in  their  couples  yelling. 

Hawks  are  whistling,  horrs  are  knelling, 

Menily,  Merrily,  mingle  they, 

"  Waken,  lords  and  ladles  gay  1  " 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay  t 
The  mist  hat  left  the  mountain  gray  t 
Springlets  in  tl  e  dawn  are  streaming, 
EKamend*  on  the  brake  are  aleaniingi 


APPENDIX.  44^ 

And  foresters  have  busy  been 
To  track  the  buck  in  thicket  green  ^ 
Now  we  come  to  chant  our  lay, 
"  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay  I  " 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay  I 
To  the  green-wood  haste  away  ; 
We  can  show  you  where  he  lies. 
Fleet  of  foot,  and  tall  of  size ; 
We  can  show  the  marks  he  made. 
When  'gainst  the  oak  his  antlers  frayed  { 
You  shall  see  him  brought  to  bay!; 
"  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay  I 

Louder,  louder,  chant  the  lay, 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay! 

Tell  them,  youth,  and  mirth,  and  glee, 

Run  a  course  as  well  as  we  ; 

Time,  stern  huntsman!  who  can  baulk» 

Staunch  as  liound,  and  fleet  as  hawk? 

Think  of  this,  and  rise  with  day. 

Gentle  lords  and  ladies  gayt 

By  the  time  this  lay  was  finished.  Lord  Bjteler,  with  his  daughter  and 
kinsman,  Fitzallen  of  Marden,  and  other  noble  guests,  had  mounted  their 
palfreys,  and  the  hunt  set  forward  in  due  order.  The  huntsman,  having 
carefully  observed  the  traces  of  a  large  stag  on  the  preceding  evening,  were 
able,  without  loss  of  time,  to  conduct  the  company,  by  the  marks  which 
they  had  made  upon  the  trees,  to  the  side  of  the  thicket  in  which,  by  the 
report  of  Drawslot,  he  had  harbored  all  night.  The  horsemen,  spreading 
themselves  along  the ,  side  of  the  cover,  waited  until  the  keeper  entered, 
leading  his  ban-dog,  a  large  blood-hound,  tied  in  a  leam  or  band,  froin 
which  he  takes  his  name. 

But  it  befell  thus.  'A  hart  of  the  second  year,  which  was  m  the  sam< 
cover  with  the  proper  object  of  their  pursuit,  chanced  to  be  unharborec 
first,  and  broke  cover  very  near  where  the  Lady  Emma  and  her  brothei 
were  stationed.  An  inexperienced  varlet,  who  was  nearer  to  them,  instantl; 
unloosed  two  tall  grayhounds,  who  sprung  after  the  fugitive  with  all  th( 
fleetness  of  the  north  wind.  Gregory,  restored  a  little  to  spirits  by  tht 
enlivening  scene  around  him,  followed,  encouraging  the  hounds  with  a  louc 
tayout,*  for  which  he  had  the  hearty  curses  of  the  huntsman,  as  well  as  o 
the  Baron,  who  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  chase  with  all  the  juvenil-i 
ardor  of  twenty.  "  May  the  foul  fiend,  booted  and  spurred,  ride  down  h?« 
bawling  throat,  with  a  scythe  at  his  girdle*^"  quoth  Albert  Drawslot; 
"  here  have  I  been  telling  him,  that  all  the  marks  were  those  of  a  buck  of 
ihe  first  head,  and  he  has  hallooed  the  hounds  upon  a  velvet-headed 
knobbler  !  By  Saint  Hubert,  if  I  brake  not  his  pate  with  my  cross-bow, 
may  I  never  cast  off  ound  more!  But,  to  it,  my  lords  and  masters t 
the  noble  beast  is  here  yet ;  and,  thank  the  saints,  we  have  enough  ot 
hounds." 

The  cover  being  now  thoroughly  beat  by  the  attendants,  the  stag  wai 
compelled  to  abandon  it,  and  trust  to  his  speed  for  his  safety.  Three 
grayhounds  were  slipped  upon  him,  whom  he  threw  out,  after  running  a 
couple  of  miles,  by  entering  an  extensive  furzy  brake,  which  extended 
along  the  side  of  a  hill.  The  horsemen  soon  came  up,  and  casting  off  a 
sufficient  number  of  slow  hounds,  sent  them  with  the  prickers  into  the 
cover,  in  order  to  drive  the  <„^nme  from  his  strength.  This  object  being 
•CCompIished,  afforded  another  severe  chase  of  several  miles,  in  a  direction 

•  7<»«V/;*ri-At7r'.  Ki  "• 'dern  ohrase,  Tally»hol 


^  APPENDIX. 

almost  circular,  during  which  the  poor  animal  tried  every  wile  to  get  rid  iH 
his  persecutors.  He  crossed  and  traversed  all  such  dusty  paths  as  were 
likely  to  retain  the  least  scent  of  his  footsteps  ;  he  laid  himself  close  to 
the  ground,  drawing  his  feet  under  his  belly,  and  clapping  his  nose  close  to 
the  earth,  lest  he  should  be  betrayed  to  the  hounds  by  his  breath  and  hoofs. 
When  all  was  in  vain,  and  he  found  the  hounds  coming  fast  in  upon  him, 
his  own  strength  failing,  his  mouth  embossed  with  foam,  and  the  tears 
dropping  from  his  eyes,  he  turned  in  despair  upon  his  pursuers,  who  then 
stood  at  gaze,  making  an  hideous  clamor,  and  awaiting  ihtir  two-footed 
auxiliaries.  Of  these,  it  chanced  that  the  Lady  Eleanor,  taking  more 
pleasure  in  the  sport  than  Matilda,  and  being  a  less  burden  to  her  palfrey 
than  the  Lord  Boteler,  was  the  first  who  arrived  at  the  spot,  and  taking  a 
cross-bow  from  an  attendant,  discharged  a  bolt  at  the  stag.  When  the 
infuriated  animal  felt  himself  wounded,  he  pushed  franticly  towards  her 
from  whom  he  had  received  the  shaft,  and  Lady  Eleanor  might  have  had 
occasion  to  repent  of  her  enterprise,  had  not  young  Fitzallen,  who  had 
kept  near  her  during  the  whole  day,  at  that  instant  galloped  briskly  in,  and 
ere  the  stag  could  change  his  object  of  assrult,  dispatched  him  with  his 
short  hunting  sword. 

Albert  Drawslot,  who  had  just  cnne  up  in  terror  for  the  young  lady's 
safety,  broke  out  into  loud  enccmiums  upon  Fitzallen's  strength  and 
gallantry.  "  By'r  Lady,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  cap,  and  wiping  his  sun 
burnt  face  with  his  sleeve,  "  well  struck,  and  in  good  time  ! — But  now,  boys, 
doff  your  bonnets,  and  sound  the  mort." 

The  sportsmen  then  sounded  a  treble  mort,  and  set  up  a  general  whoop, 
which,  mingled  with  the  yelping  of  the  dogs,  made  the  welkin  ring  again. 
The  huntsman  then  offered  his  knife  to  Lord  Boteler,  that  he  might  take 
the  say  of  the  deer,  but  the  Baron  courteously  insisted  upon  Fitzallen 
going  through  that  ceremony.  The  Lady  Matilda  was  now  come  up,  with 
most  of  the  attendants ;  and  the  interest  of  the  chase  being  ended,  it 
excited  some  surprise,  that  neither  St.  Clere  nor  his  sister  made  their 
r.ppearance.  The  Lord  Boteler  commanded  the  horns  again  to  sound  the 
recheat,  in  hopes  to  call  in  the  stragglers,  and  said  to  Fitzallen,  "  Methinks 
St.  Clere,  so  distinguished  for  service  in  war,  should  have  been  more  for- 
ward in  the  chase." 

"  I  trow,"  said  Peter  Lanaret,  "  I  know  the  reason  of  the  ncble  lord  s 
absence;  for  when  that  mooncalf,  Gregory,  hallooed  the  dogs  upon  the 
knobbler,  and  galloped  like  a  green  hilding,  as  he  is,  after  them,  1  saw  the 
Lady  Emma's  palfrev  follow  apace  after  that  varlet,  who  should  be  trashed 
for  over-running,  and  I  think  her  noble  brother  has  followed  her,  lest  she 
should  come   to  harm.— But   here,  by  the  rood,  is  Gregory,  to  answer  for 

himself."  ,  .  ,     i    j   u         c         a 

At   this  moment   Gregory  entered    the    circle  which   had    t^een   tormea 
round  the  deer,  out  of  breath',  and  his  face   covered  vvith'  blood.     He  kept 
for  some  time  uttering  inarticulate  cries  of  "  Harrow  !  "  and  "Well-away  . 
and  other  exclamations  of  distress  and   terror,    pointing  all  the  while  to  a 
thicket  at  some  distance  from  the  spot  where  the  deer  had  been  l^'li^°- 

"  By  my  honor,"  said  the  Baron,'"  I  would  gladly  know  who  has  dared 
to  array  the  poor  knave  thus ;  and  I  trust  he  should  dearly  abye  his  out- 
recuidance,  were  he  the  best,  save  one,  in  England  " 

Gregory,  who  had  now  found  more  breath,  cried,  "  Help !  an*  ye  be  men! 
Save  Lady  Emma  and  her  brother,  whom  they  are  murdering  in  Brocken- 
hurst  thicket." 

This  put  all  in  motion.  Lord  Boteler  hastily  commanded  a  small  party 
«f  his  men  to  abide  for  the  defence  nf  the  ladies,  while  he  himself,  Fitzallenj 


APPEND/X.  449 

and  the  rest,  made  what  speed  they  could  towards  the  thicket,  guided  by 
Gregory,  who  for  that  purpose  was  mounted  behind  Fabian.  Pushing 
through  a  narrow  path,  the  first  object  they  encountered  was  a  man  of  small 
statue  Iving  on  the  ground,  mastered  and  almosr  strangled  by  two  dogs, 
which  were  instantly  recognized  to  be  those  that  had  accompanied  Gregory. 
A  little  farther  was  an  open  space,  where  lay  three  bodies  of  dead  or 
wounded  men  ;  beside  these,  was  Lady  Emma,  apparently  lifeless,  her 
brother  and  a  voung  forester  bending  over  and  endeavoring  to  recover  her. 
By  employing  the  usual  remedies,  this  was  soon  accomplished ;  while  Lord 
Boteler,  astonished  at  such  a  scene,  anxiously  inquired  at  St.  Clere  the 
tneaning  of  what  he  saw,  and  whether  more  danger  was  to  be  expected.^ 

"  For  the  present  I  trust  not,"'  said  the  young  warrior,  who  they  now 
observed  was  slightly  wounded  ;  "but  I  pray  you,  of  vour  nobleness,  let  the 
R-oods  here  be  searched  ;  for  we  were  assaulted  by  four  of  those  base  assas- 
sins, and  I  see  three  only  on  the  sward." 

The  attendants  now  brought  forward  the  person  whom  they  had  rescued 
from  the  dogs,  and  Henry,  with  disgust,  shame,  and  astonishment,  recog- 
nized his  kinsman,  Gaston  St.  Clere.  This  discovery  he  communicated  in 
a  whisper  to  Lord  Boteler,  who  c(^mmanded  the  prisoner  to  be  conveyed  to 
Queenhoo-Hall,  and  closely  guarded ;  meanwhile  he  anxiously  inquired  of 
young  St.  Clere  about  his  wound. 

"  A  scratch,  a  trifle !  "  cried  Henry  ;  "  I  am  in  less  haste  to  bind  it  than 
to  introduce  to  you  one,  without  whose  aid  that  of  the  leech  would  have . 
come  too   late. — Where  is  he  .''  where  is  my  brave  deliverer  ?  " 

"  Here,  most  noble  lord,"  said  Gregory,  sliding  from  his  palfrey,  and 
stepping  forward,  "ready  to  receive  the  guerdon  which  your  bounty  would 
heap  on  him." 

"  Truly,  friend  Gregory,"  answered  the  young  warrior,  "  thou  shalt  not  be 
forgotten  ;  for  thou  didst  run  speedily,  and  roar  manfully  for  aid,  without 
which,  I  think  verily,  we  had  not  received  it. — But  the  brave  forester,  who 
came  to  my  rescue  when  these  three  ruffians  had  nigh  overpowered  me, 
where  is  he  } " 

Every  one  looked  around,  but  though  all  had  seen  him  on  entering  the 
thicket,  he  was  not  now  to  be  found.  They  could  only  conjecture  that  he 
had  retired  during  the  confusion  occasioned  by  the  detention  of  Gaston. 

"  Seek  not  for  him,"  said  the  Lady  Emma,  who  had  now  in  some  degree 
recovered  her  composure  ;  "  he  will  not  be  found  of  mortal,  unless  at  his  own 
season." 

The  Baron,  convinced  from  this  answer  that  her  terror  had,  for  the  time, 
somewhat  disturbed  her  reason,  forbore  to  question  her ;  and  Matilda  and 
P^Ieanor,  to  whom  a  message  had  been  despatched  with  the  result  of  this 
strange  adventure,  arriving,  thev  took  the  Lady  Emma  between  them,  and 
all  in  a  body  returned  to  the  castle. 

The  disfance  was,  however,  considerable  ;  and,  before  reaching  it,  they 
had  another  alarm.  The  prickers,  who  rode  foremost  in  the  troop,  halted, 
and  announced  to  the  Lord  Boteler  that  they  perceived  advancing  towards 
them  a  body  of  armed  men.  The  followers  of  the  Baron  were  numerous, 
but  ihey  were  arrayed  for  the  chase,  not  for  battle  ;  and  it  was  with  great 
pleasure  that  he  discerned,  on  the  pennon  of  the  advancing  bodv  of  men-at- 
arms,  mstead  of  the  cognizance  of  Gaston,  as  he  had  some  reason  to  expect, 
the  friendly  bearings  of  F'ltzosborne  of  Diggswell,  the  same  young  lord  who 
was  present  at  the  May-games  with  Fitzallen  of  Marden.  The  knight  him- 
self advanced,  sheathed  in  armor,  and,  without  raising  his  visor,  informed 
Lord  Boteler,  that,  having  heard  of  a  base  attempt  made  upon  a  part  of  his 
tr*in  by  ruffianly  assassins,  he  had  mounted  and  armed  a  small  party  of  hi| 


^jo  APPENDIX. 

retaimers,  to  escort  them  to  Qucenhoo-Hall.  Having  received  and  accepted 
an  invitation  to  rittend  them  thither,  they  prosecuted  their  journey  in  con- 
fidence and  securitj',  and  arrived  safe  at  home  without  any  further  accident 


Chapter  Fifth. 

investigation  of  the  adventure  of  the  hunting — a  discovery— - 
Gregory's  manhood — fate  of  gaston  st.  clere — conclusion. 

So  soon  as  they  arrived  at  the  princely  mansion  of  Boteler,  the  Lady 
Emma  craved  permission  to  retire  to  her  chamber,  that  she  might  compose 
her  spirits  after  the  terror  she  had  undergone.  Henry  St.  Clere,  in  a  few 
words,  proceeded  to  explam  the  adventure  to  the  curious  audience.  "  I 
had  no  sooner  seen  my  sister's  palfrey,  in  spite  of  her  endeavors  to  the 
contrary,  entering  with  spirit  into  the  chase  set  on  foot  by  the  worshipful 
Gregory,  than  I  rode  after  to  give  her  assistance.  So  long  was  the  chase, 
that  when  the  greyhounds  pulled  down  the  knobbler,  we  were  out  of  hear- 
ing of  your  bugles  ;  and  having  rewarded  and  coupled  the  dogs,  I  gave 
them  to  be  led  by  the  jester,  and  we  wandered  in  quest  of  our  company, 
whom  it  would  seem  the  sport  had  led  in  a  different  direction  At  length, 
passing  through  the  thicket  where  you  found  us,  I  was  surprised  by  a  cross- 
bow bolt  whizzing  past  mine  head.  I  drew  my  sword,  and  rushed  into  the 
thicket,  but  was  instantly  assailed  by  two  ruffians,  while  other  two  made 
towards  my  sister  and  Gregory.  The  poor  knave  fled,  crying  for  help,  pur- 
sued by  my  false  kinsman,  now  your  prisoner  ;  and  the  designs  of  the  other 
on  my  poor  Emma  (murderous,  no  doubt)  were  prevented  by  the  sudden 
apparition  of  a  brave  woodsman,  who,  after  a  short  encounter,  stretched  the 
miscreant  at  his  feet,  and  came  to  my  assistance.  I  was  already  slightly 
wounded,  and  nearly  overlaid  with  odds.  The  combat  lasted  some  time, 
for  the  caitiffs  were  both  well  armed,  strong,  and  desperate ;  at  length,  how- 
ever, we  had  each  mastered  our  antagonist,  when  your  retinue,  my  Lord 
Boteler,  arrived  to  my  relief.  So  ends  my  story  ;  but,  by  my  knighthood,  I 
would  give  an  earl's  ransom  for  an  opportunity  of  thanking  the  gallant 
forester  by  whose  aid  I  live  to  tell  it." 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Lord  Boteler,  "he  shall  be  found,  if  this  or  the  four 
adjacent  counties  hold  him. — And  now  Lord  Fitzosborne  will  be  pleased  to 
doff  the  armor  he  has  so  kindly  assumed  for  our  sakes,  and  we  will  all 
bowne  ourselves  for  the  banquet." 

When  the  hour  of  dinner  approached,  the  Lady  Matilda  and  her  cousii* 
visited  the  chamber  of  the  fair  Darcy.  They  found  her  in  a  composed  but 
melancholv  posture.  She  turned  the  discourse  upon  the  misfortunes  of 
her  life,  and  hinted,  that  having  recovered  her  brother  and  seeing  him  look 
forward  to  the  society  of  one  who  would  amply  repay  to  him  the  loss  of 
hers,  she  had  thoughts  nf  dedicating  her  remaining  life  to  Heaven,  by  whose 
providential  interference  it  had  been  so  often  preserved. 

Matilda  colored  deeplv  at  something  in  this  speech,  and  her  cousin  in- 
veighed loudly  against  Emma's  resolution.  "  Ah,  my  dear  Lady  Eleanor," 
replied  she,  "  I  have  to-day  witnessed  what  I  cannot  but  judge  a  super- 
natural visitation,  and  to  what  end  can  it  call  me  but  to  give  myself  to  the 
altar  ?  That  peasant  who  guided  me  to  Baddow  through  the  Park  of  Dan- 
bury,  the  same  who  appeared  l^efore  me  at  different  times,  and  in  different 
lorms,  during  that  eventful  journey — that  youth,  whose  features  are  im- 
Kirinted  on  my  memory,  is  the  very  individual  forester  who  this  day  rescued 


APPENDIX. 


45  « 


OS  hi  the  forest.  I  cannot  be  mistaken  ;  and  connecting  these  marvelloug 
appeal  :inces  with  the  spectre  which  I  saw  while  at  Gay  Bowers,  I  cannot 
resist  the  conviction  that  Heaven  has  permitted  my  guardian  angel  to 
assume  mortal  shape  for  rny  relief  and  protection. 

The  fair  cousins,  after  exchanging  looks  which  implied  a  fear  that  her 
mind  was  wandering,  answered  her  in  soothing  terms,  and  finally  prevailed 
upon  her  to  accompany  them  to  the  banqueting-hall.  Here  the  first  person 
they  encountered  was  the  Baron  Fitzosborne  of  Diggswell.  now  divested  o! 
his  armor  ;  at  the  sight  of  whom  the  Lady  Emma  changed  color,  and  ex- 
claiming, "  It  is  the  same  !  "  sunk  senseless  into  the  arms  of  Matilda 

"  She  is  bewildered  by  the  terrors  of  the  day,"  said  Eleanor  ;  "and  w« 
have  done  ill  in  obliging  her  to  descend." 

"  And  I,"  said  Fitzosborne,  "have  done  madly  in  presenting  before  her 
one,  whose  presence   must  recall  moments  the  most  alarming  in  her  life." 

While  the  ladies  supported  Emma  from  the  hall,  Lord  Boteler  and  St. 
Clere  requested  an  explanation  from  Fitzosborne  of  the  words  he  had  used. 

"  Trust  me,  gentle  lords,"  said  the  baron  of  Diggswell,  "  ye  shall  have 
what  ye  demand,  when  I  learn  that  Lady  Emma  Darcy  has  not  suffered 
from  my  imprudence  " 

At  this  moment  Lady  Matilda,  returning  said  that  her  fair  friend,  on 
her  recovery,  had  calmly  and  deliberately  insisted  that  she  had  seen  Fitz- 
osborne before,  in  the  most  dangerous  crisis  of  her  life. 

"I  dread,"  said  she,  "her  disordered  mind  connects  all  that  her  eye 
beholds  with  the  terrible  passages  that  she  has  witnessed." 

"  Nay,"  said  Fitzosborne,  "  if  noble  St.  Clere  can  pardon  the  unauthorized 
interest  which,  with  the  purest  and  most  honorable  intentions,  I  have 
taken  in  his  sister's  fate,  it  is  easy  for  me  to  explain  this  mysterious  im- 
pression." 

He  proceeded  to  say,  that,  happening  to  be  in  the  hostelry  called  the 
Griffin,  near  Baddow,  while  upon  a  journey  in  that  country,  he  had  met 
with  the  old  nurse  of  the  Lady  Emma  Darcy,  who,  being  just  expelled  from 
Gay  Bowers,  was  in  the  height  of  her  grief  and  indignation,  and  made  loud 
and  public  proclamation  of  Lady  Emma's  wrongs.  From  the  description 
she  gave  of  the  beauty  of  her  foster-child,  as  well  as  from  the  spirit  of 
chivalry,  Fitzosborne  became  interested  in  her  fate.  This  interest  was 
deeply  enhanced,  when,  by  a  bribe  to  old  Gaunt  the  Reve,  he  procured  a 
view  of  the  Lady  Emma  as  she  walked  near  the  castle  of  Gay  Bowers.  The 
aged  churl  refused  to  give  him  access  to  the  castle ;  yet  dropped  some 
hints,  as  if  he  thought  the  lady  in  danger,  and  wished  she  were  well  out 
of  it.  His  master,  he  said,  had  heard  she  had  a  brother  in  life,  and  since 
that  deprived  him  of  all  chance  of  gaining  her  domains  by  purchase,  he 

in  short.  Gaunt  wished  they  were  safely  separated.     "  If  any  injury," 

quoth  he,  "  should  happen  to  the  damsel  here,  it  were  ill  for  us  all.  I  tried, 
by  an  innocent  stratagem,  to  frighten  her  from  the  castle,  by  introducing 
a  figure  through  a  trap-door,  and  warning  her,  as  if  by  a  voice  from  the 
dead,  to  retreat  from  thence  ;  but  the  giglet  is  wilful,  and  is  running  upon 
her  fate." 

Finding  Gaunt,  although  covetous  and  communicative,  too  faithful  a 
servant  to  his  wicked  master  to  take  any  active  steps  against  his  commands, 
Fitzosborne  applied  himself  to  old  Urselv,  whom  he  found  more  tractable. 
Through  her  he  learned  the  dreadful  plot  Gaston  had  laid  to  rid  himself  of  his 
kinswoman,  and  resolved  to  effect  her  deliverence.  But  aware  of  the  delicacy 
of  Emma's  situation,  he  charged  Ursely  to  conceal  from  her  the  interest  he 
took  in  her  distress,  resolving  to  watch  over  her  in  disguise  until  he  »a* 
bar  in  »  place  of  safety.    Hence  the  appearance  he  made  before  her  k 


4S« 


appendix: 


various  dresses  during  her  journey,  in  the  course  of  which  he  was  never  fM 

distant ;  and  he  had  always  four  stout  yeomen  within  hearing  of  his  bugle, 
had  assistance  been  necessary.  When  she  was  placed  in  safety  at  the 
lodge,  it  was  Fitzosborne's  intention  to  have  prevailed  upon  his  sisters  to 
visit  and  take  her  under  their  protection;  but  he  found  them  absent  from 
Diggswell,  having  gone  to  attend  an  aged  relation  who  lay  dangerously  ill 
in  a  distant  county.  They  did  not  return  until  the  day  before  the  May- 
games  ;  and  the  other  events  followed  too  rapidly  to  permit  Fitzosborne  to 
lay  any  plan  for  introducing  them  to  Lady  Emma  Darcy,  On  the  day  of 
the  chase  he  resolved  to  preserve  his  romantic  disguise,  and  attend  the 
Lady  Emma  as  a  forester,  partly  to  have  the  pleasure  of  being  near  her, 
and  partly  to  judge  whether,  according  to  an  idle  report  in  the  country, 
she  favored  his  friend  and  comrade  Fitzallen  of  Marden  This  last  motive, 
it  may  'easily  be  believed,  he  did  not  declare  to  the  company  After  the 
skirmish  with  the  ruffians,  he  waited  till  the  Baron  and  the  hunters  arrived, 
and  then,  still  doubting  the  farther  designs  of  Gaston,  hastened  to  his  castle, 
to  arm  the  band  which  had  escorted  them  to  Queenhoo-Hall. 

Fitzosborne's  story  being  finished,  he  received  the  thanks  of  all  the  com- 
pany, particularly  of  St  Clere,  who  felt  deeply  the  respectful  delicacy  with 
which  he  had  conducted  himself  towards  his  sister.  The  lady  was  carefully 
informed  of  her  obligation  to  him  ;  and  it  is  left  to  the  well-judging  reader 
whether  even  the  raillery  of  Lady  Eleanor  made  her  regret  that  He^iven  had 
only  employed  natural  means  for  her  security,  and  that  the  guardian  iiv='el 
was  converted  into  a  handsome,  gallant,  and  enamoured  knight. 

The  joy  of  the  company  in  the  hall  extended  itself  to  the  buttery,  whei* 
Gregory  the  jester  narrated  such  feats  of  arms  done  by  himself  in  the  fra^ 
of  the  morning  as  might  have  shamed  Bevis  and  Guy  of  Warwick.  He 
was,  according  to  his  narrative,  singled  out  for  destruction  by  the  gigantic 
Baron  himself,  while  he  abandoned  to  meaner  hands  the  destruction  of  St 
Clere  and  Fitzosborne. 

"  But  certes,"  said  he,  "  the  foul  paynim  met  his  match  ;  for,  ever  as  he 
foined  at  me  with  his  brand,  I  parried  his  blows  with  my  bauble,  and  clos- 
ing with  him  upon  the  third  veny,  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  made  him 
cry  recreant  to  an  unarmed  man." 

"  Tush,  man,"  said  Drawslot,  "thou  forgettest  thy  best  auxiliaries,  the 
good  greyhounds,  Help  and  Holdfast!  I  warrant  thee,  that  when  the 
humpbacked  Baron  caught  thee  by  the  cowl,  which  he  hath  almost  torn 
off,  thou  hadst  been  in  a  fair  plight  had  they  not  remembered  an  old  friend, 
and  come  in  to  the  rescue.  Why,  man,  I  found  them  fastened  on  him 
myself  ;  and  there  was  odd  staving  and  stickling  to  make  them  '  ware 
haunch  } '  Their  mouths  were  full  of  the  flex,  for  I  pulled  a  piece  of  the 
garment  from  their  jaws.  I  warrant  thee,  that  when  they  brought  him  to 
the  ground,  thou  fled'st  like  a  frighted  pricket." 

"  And  as  for  Gregory's  gigantic  paynim,"  said  Fabian,  "  why,  he  lies 
yonder  in  the  guard-room,  the  very  size,  shape,  and  color  of  a  spider  in  a 
jrcw-hedge." 

"  It  is  false,"  said  Gregory ;  Colbrand  the  Dane  was  a  dwarf  to  him." 

"  It  is  as  true,"  returned  Fabian,  "  as  that  the  Tasker  is  to  be  married, 
on  Tuesday,  to  Pretty  Margery.  Gregory,  thy  sheet  hath  brought  thena 
between  a  pair  of  blankets." 

"  I  care  no  more  for  such  a  gillflirt,"  said  the  Jester,  "  than  I  do  for  thy 
leasings.  Marry,  thou  hop-o'-my  thumb,  happy  wouldst  thou  be  could  thy 
kead  reach  the  captive  Baron's  girdle." 

"  By  the  mass,"  said  Peter  Lanaret,  "  I  will  have  one  peep  at  this  burly 
gallant ;  "  and  leaving  the  buttery,  he  went  to  the  guard-room  where  Gaston 


APPENDIX.  453 

St.  Clere  was  confined.  A  man-at-arms,  who  kept  sentinel  on  the  strong 
studded  door  of  the  apartment,  said  he  believed  he  slept ;  for  that  after 
raging,  stamping,  and  uttering  the  most  horrid  imprecations,  he  had  been 
of  late  perfectly  still.  The  Falconer  gently  drew  back  a  sliding  board,  of 
a  foot  square,  towards  the  top  of  the  door,  which  covered  a  hole  of  the 
same  size,  strongly  latticed,  through  which  the  warder,  without  opening  the 
door,  could  look  in  upon  his  prisoner.  From  this  aperture  he  beheld  the 
wretched  Gaston  suspended  by  the  neck,  by  his  own  girdle,  to  an  iron  ring 
in  the  side  of  the  prison.  He  had  clambered  to  it  by  means  of  the  table 
on  which  his  foot  had  been  placed;  and  in  the  agonies  of  shame  and  dis- 
appointed malice,  had  adopted  this  mode  of  ridding  himself  of  a  wretched 
life.  He  was  found  yet  warm,  but  totally  lifeless.  A  proper  account  of 
the  manner  of  his  death  was  drawn  up  and  certified.  He  was  buried  that 
evening  in  the  chapel  of  the  castle,  out  of  respect  for  his  high  birth  ;  and 
the  chaplain  of  Fitzallen  of  Marden,  who  said  the  service  upon  the  occasion, 
preached,  the  next  Sunday,  an  excellent  sermon  upon  the  text,  Radix  malo^ 

rufn  est  cttfiiditas,  which  we  have  here  transcribed. 

"    *  *  *  *  *  * 

[Here  the  manuscript,  from  which  we  have  painfully  transcribed,  and 
frequently,  as  it  were,  translated  this  tale,  for  the  reader's  edification,  is  so 
indistinct  and  defaced,  that,  excepting  certain  howbeits,  nathlesses,  lo  ye's! 
etc.,  we  can  pick  out  little  that  is  intelligible,  saving  that  avarice  is  defined 
"a  likourishness  of  heart  after  earthly  things."  A  little  farther,  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  gay  account  of  Margery's  wedding  with  Ralph  the 
Tasker ;  the  running  at  the  quintain,  and  other  rural  games  practised  on 
the  occasion.  There  are  also  fragments  of  a  mock  sermon  preached  by 
Gregory  upon  that  occasion,  as,  for  example : — 

"  My  dear  cursed  caitiffs,  there  was  once  a  king,  and  he  wedded  a  young 
old  queen,  and  she  had  a  child;  and  this  child  was  sent  to  Solomon  the 
Sage,  praying  he  would  give  it  the  same  blessing  which  he  got  from  the 
witch  of  Endor  when  she  bit  him  by  the  heel.  Hereof  speaks  the  worthy 
Dr.  Radigundus  Potator  ;  why  should  not  mass  be  said  for  all  the  roasted 
shoe  souls  served  up  in  the  king's  dish  on  Saturday ;  for  true  it  is,  that 
St.  Peter  asked  father  Adam,  as  they  journeyed  to  Camelot,  an  high,  great, 
and  doubtful  question,  *  Adam,  Adam,  why  eatedst  thou  the  apple  without 
paring  ? '  "  * 

With  much  goodly  gibberish  to  the  same  effect,  which  display  of  Gre- 
gory's ready  wit  not  only  threw  the  whole  company  into  convulsions  of 
laughter,  but  made  such  an  impression  on  Rose,  the  Potter's  daughter, 
that  it  was  thought  it  would  be  the  Jester's  own  fault  if  Jaek  was  long 
without  his  Jill.  Much  pithy  matter,  concerning  the  bringing  the  bride  to 
bed,  the  loosing  the  bridegroom's  points,  the  scramble  which  ensued  for 
them,  and  the  casting  of  the  stocking,  is  also  omitted  from  its  obscurity. 

The  following  song  which  has  been   since  borrowed  by  the  worshipful 

♦  This  tirade  of  gibberish  is  literally  taken  or  selected  from  a  mock  discourse 
pronounced  by  a  professed  jester,  which  occurs  in  an  ancient  manuscript  in  tlie  Advo- 
cates' Library,  the  same  from  which  the  late  ingenious  Mr.  Weber  pubhshed  the  curious 
eomic  romance  of  the  Hunting  of  tlie  Hare.  It  was  introduced  in  compliance  with  Mr, 
Strutt's  plan  of  rendering  his  tale  an  illustration  of  ancient  manners.  A  similar  burlesque 
eermon  is  pronounced  by  the  Fool  in  Sir  David  Lindesay's  satire  of  the  Three  Estates. 
The  nonsense  and  vulgar  burlesque  of  that  composition  illustrate  the  ground  of  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek's  eulogy  on  the  exploits  of  the  jester  in  Twelfth  Night,  who,  reserving  his 
jests  for  Sir  Toby,  had  doubtless  enough  of  the  jargon  of  his  calling  to  captivate  the  ijt»- 
Decility  of  his  brother  knight,  who  is  made  to  exclaim — "  In  sooth  thou  wast  in  very  gracions 
fooling  last  night,  when  thou  spokest  of  Pigrogremitus,  and  of  the  vapors  passing  the  equin- 
octials of  Quenbus  ;  'twas  very  good,  i'  faith  !  "  It  is  entertaining  to  find  comrnentatOKB 
sesking  to  discover  some  meanjro'  in  the  professional  jargon  of  sach  a  passage  as  this. 


454  APPEIVDTX. 

author  of  the  famous  "  History  of  Fryar  Bacon,"  has  been  with  difficulty 
deciphered.  It  seems  to  have  been  sung  on  occasion  of  carrying  home  the 
bride. 

BRIDAL  SONG. 
To  tk*  tuM  of—"  I  have  been  a  Fiddler^  tte* 

And  did  you  not  hear  of  a  mirth  befell 

The  morrow  after  a  wedding  day, 
And  carrying  a  bride  at  home  to  dwell? 

And  away  to  Tewin,  away,  away  1 

The  quintain  was  set,  and  the  garlands  were  main  }«• 

'Tis  pity  old  customs  should  ever  decay  ; 
And  wo  be  to  him  that  was  horsed  on  a  jade. 

For  he  carried  no  credit  away,  away. 

We  met  a  concert  of  fiddle-de-dees; 

We  set  them  a  cockhorse,  and  made  them  plav 
The  winning  of  Bullen,  and  Upsey-frees, 

And  away  to  Tewin,  away,  awayl  • 

There  was  ne'er  a  lad  in  all  the  parish 

That  would  go  to  the  plough  that  day  ; 
But  on  his  fore-horse  his  wench  he  cames. 

And  away  to  Tewin,  away,  away  ! 

The  butler  was  quick  and  the  ale  he  did  tap; 

The  maidens  did  make  the  chamber  full  gay  ; 
The  servants  did  give  me  a  fuddling  cup, 

And  I  did  carry  t  away,  away ! 

Th«  smith  of  the  town  his  liquor  so  took, 

That  he  was  persuaded  that  the  ground  looked  bhlS  | 

And  I  dare  boldly  be  sworn  on  a  book. 
Such  smiths  as  he  there's  but  a  few. 

A  posset  was  made,  and  the  women  did  sip, 
And  simpering  said,  they  could  eat  no  more  { 

Full  many  a  maiden  was  laid  on  the  lip, — 
I'll  say  no  more,  but  give  o'er  (give  o'er). 

But  what  our  fair  readers  will  chiefly  regret,  is  the  loss  of  three  decla* 
rations  of  love :  the  first  by  St.  Clere  to  Matilda  ;  which,  with  the  lady's 
answer,  occupies  fifteen  closely-written  pages  of  manuscript.  That  of 
Fitzosborne  to  Emma  is  not  much  shorter;  but  the  amours  of  Fitzallea 
and  Eleanor,  being  of  a  less  romantic  cast,  are  closed  in  three  pages  only. 
The  three  noble  couples  were  married  in  Queenhoo-Hall  upon  the  same 
day,  being  the  twentieth  Sunday  after  Easter.  There  is  a  prolix  account 
of  the  marriage-feast,  of  which  we  can  pick  out  the  names  of  a  few  dishes, 
such  as  peterel,  crane,  sturgeon,  swan,  etc.,  etc.,  with  a  profusion  of  wild- 
fowl and  venison.  We  also  see  that  a  suitable  song  was  produced  by 
Peretto  on  the  occasion ;  and  that  the  bishop  who  blessed  the  bridal  beds 
which  received  the  happy  couples,  was  no  niggard  of  his  holy  water,  be- 
stowing half-a-gallon  upon  each  of  the  couches.  We  regret  we  cannot  give 
these  curiosities  to  the  reader  in  detail,  but  we  hope  to  expose  the  manu- 
script to  abler  antiquaries,  so  soon  as  it  shall  be  framed  and  glazed  by  the 
ingenious  artist  who  rendered  that  service  to  Mr  Ireland's  Shakespeart 
MSS.  And  so  (being  unable  to  lay  aside  the  style  to  which  our  pen  is 
habituated),  gentler  reader,  we  bid  thee  heartily  farewell.] 


Na  III. 

ANECDOTE  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

f  PON  WHICH  MR.  THOMAS  SCOTT  PROPOSED  TO  FOUND  A  TALE  OF  FICTION. 

It  is  well  known  in  the  South  that  there  is  little  or  no  boxing  at  th« 
Scottish  schools.  About  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  however,  a  far  more 
dangerous  mode  of  fighting,  in  parties  or  factions,  was  permitted  in  the 
streets  of  Edinburgh,  to  the  great  disgrace  of  the  police,  and  danger  of  the 
parties  concerned.  These  parties  were  generally  formed  from  the  quarters 
of  the  town  in  which  the  combatants  resided,  those  of  a  particular  square 
or  district  fighting  against  those  of  an  adjoining  one.  Hence  it  happened 
that  the  children  of  the  higher  classes  were  often  pitted  against  those  of 
the  lower,  each  taking  their  side  according  to  the  residence  of  their  friends. 
So  far  as  I  recollect,  however,  it  was  unmingled  either  with  feelings  of 
democracy  or  aristocracy,  or  indeed  with  malice  or  ill-will  of  any  kind 
towards  the  opposite  party.  In  fact,  it  was  only  a  rough  mode  of  play. 
Such  contests  were,  however,  maintained  with  great  vigor,  with  stones,  and 
sticks,  and  fisticuffs,  when  one  party  dared  to  charge,  and  the  other  stood 
their  ground.  Of  course,  mischief  sometimes  happened :  boys  are  said  to 
have  been  killed  at  these  Bickers,  as  they  were  called,  and  serious  accidents 
certainly  took  place,  as  many  contemporaries  can  bear  witness. 

The  Author's  father  residing  in  George  Square,  in  the  southern  side  of 
Edinburgh,  the  boys  belonging  to  that  family,  with  others  in  the  square, 
were  arranged  into  a  sort  of  company,  to  which  a  lady  of  distinction  pre- 
sented a  handsome  set  of  colors.  Now  this  company  or  regiment,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  was  engaged  in  weekly  warfare  with  the  boys  inhabiting 
the  Crosscauseway,  Bristo  Street,  the  Potterrow — in  short,  the  neighbor- 
ing suburbs.  These  last  were  chiefly  of  the  lower  rank,  but  hardy  loons, 
who  threw  stones  to  a  hair's-breadth,  and  were  very  rugged  antagonists  at 
close  quarters.  The  skirmish  sometimes  lasted  for  a  whole  evening,  until 
one  party  or  the  other  was  victorious,  when,  if  ours  were  successful,  we 
drove  the  enemy  to  their  quarters,  and  were  usually  chased  back  by  the  re- 
inforcement of  bigger  lads  who  come  to  their  assistance.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  were  pursued,  as  was  often  the  case,  into  the  precincts  of  our 
square,  we  were  in  our  turn  supported  by  our  elder  brothers,  domestic 
servants,  and  similar  auxiliaries. 

It  followed,  from  our  frequent  opposition  to  each  other,  that,  though 
not  knowing  the  names  of  our  enemies,  we  were  yet  well  acquainted  with 
their  appearance,  and  had  nick-names  for  the  most  remarkable  of  them 
One  very  active  and  spirited  boy  might  be  considered  as  the  principal  leader 
in  the  cohort  of  the  suburbs.  He  was,  I  suppose,  thirteen  or  fourteen 
years  old,  finely-made,  tall,  blue-eyed,  with  long  fair  hair,  the  very  picture 
of  a  youthful  Goth.  This  lad  was  always  first  in  the  charge,  and  last  in 
the  retreat — the  Achilles,  at  once,  and  Ajax,  of  the  Crosscauseways.  He 
was  too  formidable  to  us  not  to  have  a  cognomen,  and  like  that  of  a  knight 
of  old,  it  was  taken  from  the  most  remarkable  part  of  his  dress,  being  a 
pair  of  old  green  livery  breeches,  which  was  the  principal  part  of  his  cloth- 
ing ;   for,  like  Pentapolin,  according   to  Don  Quixote's  account,  Green* 


456  APPENDIX. 

Breeks,  as  we  called  him,  always  entered  the  battle  with  bare  arms,  legs, 
and  feet. 

It  fell,  that  once  upon  a  time,  when  the  combat  was  at  the  thickest,  this 
plebeian  champion  headed  a  sudden  charge,  so  rapid  and  furious  that  all 
fled  before  him.  He  was  several  paces  before  his  comrades,  and  had 
actually  laid  his  hands  on  the  patrician  standard,  when  one  of  our  party, 
whom  some  misj'idging  friend  had  entrusted  wtih  a  coutemc  de  ckasse,  or 
hanger,  inspired  with  zeal  for  the  honor  of  the  corps,  worthy  of  Major 
Sturgeon  himself,  struck  poor  Green-Breeks  over  the  head,  with  strength 
sufficient  to  cut  him  down.  When  this  was  seen,  the  casualty  was'  so  far 
beyond  what  had  taken  place  before,  that  both  parties  fled  different 
ways,  leaving  poor  Green-Breeks,  with  his  bright  hair  plentifully  dabbled 
in  blood,  to  the  care  of  the  watchman,  who  (honest  man)  took  care  not  to 
know  who  had  done  the  mischief.  The  bloody  hanger  was  flung  into  one 
of  the  Meadow  ditches,  and  solemn  secrecy  was  sworn  on  all  hands ;  but 
the  remorse  and  terror  of  the  actor  were  beyond  all  bounds,  and  his  appre- 
hensions of  the  most  dreadful  character.  The  wounded  hero  was  for  a 
few  days  in  the  Infirmary,  the  case  being  only  a  trifling  one.  But  though 
inquiry  was  strongly  pressed  on  him,  no  argument  could  make  him  indicate 
the  person  from  whom  he  had  received  the  wound,  though  he  must  have 
been  perfectly  well  known  to  him.  When  he  recovered,  and  was  dis- 
missed, the  Author  and  his  brothers  opened  a  communication  with  him, 
through  the  medium  of  a  popular  ginger-bread  baker,  of  whom  both  par- 
ties were  customers,  in  order  to  tender  a  subsidy  in  name  of  smart-money. 
The  sum  would  excite  ridicule  were  I  to  name  it ;  but  sure  I  am,  that  the 
pockets  of  the  noted  Green-Breeks  never  held  as  much  money  of  his  own. 
He  declined  the  remittance,  saying  that  he  would  not  sell  his  blood  ;  but  at 
the  same  time  reprobated  the  idea  of  being  an  informer,  which  he  said  was 
(lam,  i.  e.  base  or  mean.  With  much  urgency  he  accepted  a  pound  of  snuff 
for  the  use  of  some  old  women — aunt,  grandmother,  or  the  like — with  whom 
he  lived.  We  did  not  become  friends,  for  the  bickers  were  more  agreeable 
to  both  parties  than  any  more  pacific  amusement ;  but  we  conducted  them 
ever  after  under  mutual  assurances  of  the  highest  consideration  of  each  other. 

Such  was  the  hero  whom  Mr.  Thomas  Scott  proposed  to  carry  to  Can- 
ada, and  involve  in  adventures  with  the  natives  and  colonists  of  that  coun- 
try. Perhaps  the  youthful  generosity  of  the  lad  will  not  seem  so  great  in 
the  eyes  of  others  as  to  those  whom  it  was  the  means  of  screening  from 
severe  rebuke  and  punishment.  But  it  seemed,  to  those  concerned,  to  ar- 
gue a  nobleness  of  sentiment  far  beyond  the  pitch  of  most  minds  ;  and  how- 
ever obscurely  the  lad  who  showed  such  a  frame  of  noble  spirit  may  have 
lived  or  died,  I  cannot  help  being  of  opinion,  that  if  fortune  had  placed 
him  in  circumstances  calling  for  gallantry  or  generosity,  the  man  would  have 
fulfilled  the  promises  of  the  boy.  Long  afterwards,  when  the  story  was 
told  to  my  father,  he  censured  us  severely  for  not  telling  the  truth  at  the 
time,  that  he  might  have  been  of  use  to  the  young  man  in  entering  on  life. 
But  lour  alarms  for  the  consequences  of  the  drawn  sword,  and  the  wound 
inflicted  with  such  a  weapon,  were  far  too  predominant  at  the  time  for 
such  a  pitch  of  generosity. 

Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  inserted  this  school-boy  tale  ;  but  besides 
the  strong  impression  made  by  the  incident  at  the  time,  the  whole  accom- 
paniments of  the  story  are  matters  to  me  of  solemn  and  sad  recollection.  Of 
all  the  little  band  who  were  concerned  in  those  juvenile  sports  or  brawls, 
I  can  scarce  recollect  a  single  survivor.  Some  left  the  ranks  of  mimic  war 
to  die  in  the  active  service  of  their  country.  Many  sought  distant  lands  to 
leturn  no  more.     Others,  dispersed  in  different  paths  o£  life,  "  my  dim  eyes 


APPENDIX.  457 

now  seek  for  in  vain."  Of  five  brothers,  all  healthy  and  promising,  in  a 
degree  far  beyond  one  whose  infancy  was  visited  by  personal  infirmity, 
and  whose  health  after  this  period  seemed  long  very  precarious,  I  am, 
nevertheless,  the  only  survivor.  The  best  loved,  and  the  best  deserving  to 
be  loved,  who  had  destined  this  incident  to  be  the  foundation  of  literary 
composition,  died  "before  his  day"  in  a  distant  and  foreign  land;  and  tri- 
fles assume  an  importance  not  their  own  when  connected  with  those  who 
have  been  loved  and  lost. 


APPENDIX 
TO  INTRODUCTION  (182^,  p.  1 


The  mutual  protection  afforded  by  Waverley  and  Talbot  to  each  otttCT* 

upon  which  the  whole  plot  depends,  is  founded  upon  one  of  those  anec» 
dotes  which  soften  the  features  even  of  civil  war  ;  and  as  it  is  equally 
honorable  to  the  memory  of  both  parties,  we  have  no  hesitation  to  give 
their  names  at  length.  When  the  Highlanders,  on  the  morning  of  the 
battle  of  Preston,  1745,  made  their  memorable  attack  on  Sir  John  Cope's 
army,  a  battery  of  four  field-pieces  was  stormed  and  carried  by  the  Came- 
rons  and  the  Stewarts  of  Appine.  The  late  Alexander  Stewart  of  Inver- 
nahyle  was  one  of  the  foremost  in  the  charge,  and  observing  an  officer  of 
the  King's  forces,  who,  scorning  to  join  the  flight  of  all  around,  remained 
with  his  sword  in  his  hand,  as  if  determined  to  the  very  last  to  defend  tho 
post  assigned  to  him,  the  Highland  gentleman  commanded  him  to  surren- 
der, and  received  for  reply  a  thrust,  which  he  caught  in  his  target.  The  ifiS- 
cer  was  now  defenceless,  and  the  battle-axe  of  a  gigantic  Highlander  (the 
miller  of  Invernahyle's  mill)  was  uplifted  to  dash  his  brains  out,  when  Mr. 
Stewart  with  diificulty  prevailed  on  him  to  yield.  He  took  charge  of 
his  enemy's  property,  protected  his  person,  and  finally  obtained  him  liberty 
on  his  parole.  The  officer  proved  to  be  Colonel  Whitefoord,  an  Ayrshire 
gentleman  of  high  character  and  influence,  and  warmly  attached  to  the  House 
of  Hanover;  vet  such  was  the  confidence  existing  between  these  two  honor- 
able men,  though  of  different  political  principles,  that  while  the  civil  war 
was  raging,  and  straggling  officers  from  the  Highland  army  were  executed 
without  mercy,  Invernahyle  hesitated  not  to  pay  his  late  captive  a  visit  as  he 
returned  to  the  Highlands  to  raise  fresh  recruits,  on  which  occasion  he 
spent  a  day  or  two  in  Ayrshire  among  Colonel  Whitefoord's  Whig  friends, 
as  pleasantly  and  as  good-humoredly  as  if  all  had  been  at  peace  around  him. 

After  the  battle  of  Culloden  had  ruined  the  hopes  of  Charles  Edward, 
and  dispersed  his  proscril^ed  adherents,  it  was  Colonel  Whitefoord's  turn  to 
strain  every  nerve  to  obtain  Mr.  Stewart's  pardon.  He  went  to  the  Lord 
Justice-Clerk,  to  the  I^rd  Advocate,  and  to  all  the  officers  of  state,  and 
each  application  was  answered  by  the  production  of  a  list,  in  which  In- 
vernahyle (as  the  good  old  gentleman  was  wont  to  express  it)  appeared 
"marked  with  the  sign  of  the  beast !  "  as  a  subject  unfit  for  tavor  or  pardon. 

At  length  Colonel  Whitefoord  applied  to  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  ia 


458  APPENDIX. 

person.  From  him  also  he  received  a  positive  refusal.  He  then  1ti*- 
Ited  his  request,  for  the  present,  to  a  protection  of  Stewart's  house,  wife,' 
children,  and  property.  This  was  also  refused  by  the  Duke ;  on  wliich 
Colonel  Whitefoord,  takriig  his  commission  from  his  bosom,  laid  it  on  the 
table  before  his  Royal  Highness  with  much  emotion,  and  asked  permission 
to  retire  from  the  service  of  a  sovereign  wlio  did  not  know  how  to  spare  a 
vanquished  enemy.  The  Duke  was  struck,  and  even  affected.  He  bade 
the  Colonel  take  up  his  commission,  and  granted  the  protection  he  required. 
It  was  issued  just  in  time  to  save  the  house,  corn,  and  cattle  at  Invernahyle 
from  the  troops  who  were  engaged  in  laying  waste  what  it  was  the  fashion 
to  call  "the  country  of  the  enemy."  A  small  encampment  of  soldiers 
was  formed  on  Invernahyle's  property,  which  they  spared  while  plundering 
the  country  around,  and  searching  in  every  direction  for  the  leaders  of  the 
insurrection,  and  for  Stewart  in  particular.  He  was  much  nearer  thera 
than  they  suspected  ,  for,  hidden  in  a  cave  (like  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine); 
he  lay  for  many  days  so  near  the  English  sentinels,  that  he  could  hear  their 
muster-roll  called  His  food  was  brought  to  him  by  one  of  his  daughters, 
a  child  of  eight  years  old,  whom  Mrs.  Stewart  was  under  the  necessity  of 
entrusting  with  this  commission ;  for  her  own  motions,  and  those  of  all 
her  elder  inmates,  were  closely  watched.  With  ingenuity  beyond  her  years,- 
the  child  used  to  stray  about  among  the  soldiers,  who  were  rat'lier  kind  to 
her.  and  thus  seize  the  moment  when  she  was  unobserved,  and  steal  mto  the 
thicket,  when  she  deposited  whatever  small  store  of  provisions  she  had 
in  charge  at  some  marked  spot,  where  her  father  might  find  it.  Invernahyle 
supported  life  for  several  weeks  by  means  of  these  precarious  supplies  ;  and 
as  he  had  been  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Culloden,  the  hardships  which  he 
endured  were  aggravated  by  great  bodi!y  pain.  After  the  soldiers  had  re- 
moved their  quarters,  he  had  another  remarkable  escape. 

As  he  now  ventured  to  his  own  house  at  night,  and  left  it  in  the  morning, 
he  was  espied' during  the  dawn  by  a  party  of  the  enemy,  who  fired  at  and 
pursued  hi.n.  The  fugitive  being  fortunate  enough  to  escape  their  search, 
they  returned  to  the  house,  and  charged  the  family  with  harboring  one 
of  the  proscribed  traitors.  An  old  woman  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to 
maintain  that  the  man  they  had  seen  was  a  shepherd.  "  Why  did  he  not  stop 
when  we  called  to  him  ? "  said  the  soldier. — "  He  is  as  deaf,  poor  man, 
as  a  peat-stack,"answered  the  ready-witted  domestic. — "  Let  him  be  sent 
for,  directly  "  The  real  shepherd  accordingly  was  brought  from  the  hill, 
and  as  there  was  time  to  tutor  him  by  the  way,  he  was  as  deaf  when  he 
made  his  appearance  as  was  necessary  to  sustain  his  character.  Inver- 
nahyle was  afterwards  pardoned  under  the  Act  of  Indemnity. 

The  Author  knew  him  well,  and  has  often  heard  these  circumstances 
from  his  own  mouth  He  was  a  noble  specimen  of  the  old  Highlander, 
far  descended,  gallant,  courteous,  and  brave,  even  to  chivalry.  He  had 
been  out,  I  believe,  in  1715  and  1745;  was  an  active  partaker  in  all  the 
stirring  scenes  which  passed  in  the  Highlands  betwixt  these  memorable 
eras ,  and,  I  have  heard,  was  remarkable,  among  other  exploits,  for  hav 
ing  fought  a  duel  with  the  broadsword  with  the  celebrated  Rob  Roy  Mac* 
Gregor,  at  the  Clachan  of  Balquhidder. 

Invernahyle  chanced  to  be  in  Edinburgh  when  Paul  Jones  came  into 
the  Firth  of  Forth,  and  though  then  an  old  man,  I  saw  him  in  arms,  and 
heard  him  exult  (to  use  his  own  words)  '.n  the  prospect  of  "  drawing  his 
claymore  once  more  before  he  died."  In  fact,  on  that  memorable  occasion, 
when  the  capital  of  Scotland  was  menaced  by  three  trifling  sloops  or  brigs, 
•carce  fit  to  have  sacked  a  fishing  village,  he  was  the  only  man  who  seemed 
to  propose  a  plan  of  resistance.     He  offered  to  the  magistrates,  if  broadi 


APPENDIX. 


459 


swords  and  dirks  could  be  obtained,  to  find  as  many  Highlanders  among- 
the  lower  classes  as  would  cut  off  any  boat's  crew  who  might  be  sent  into 
a  town  full  of  narrow  and  winding  passages,  in  which  they  were  likely  to 
disperse  in  quest  of  plunder.  I  know  not  if  his  plan  was  attended  to;  I 
rather  think  it  seemed  too  hazardous  t  >  the  constituted  authorities,  who 
might  not,  even  at  that  time,  desire  to  see  arms  in  Highland  hands.  A 
steady  and  powerful  west  wind  settled  the  matter,  by  sweeping  Paul  Jones 
and  his  vessels  out  of  the  Firth. 

If  there  is  something  degrading  in  this  recollection,  it  is  not  unpleasant 
to  compare  it  with  those  of  the  last  war,  when  Edinburgh,  besides  regular 
forces  and  militia,  formed  a  volunteer  brigade  of  cavalry,  *  infantry,  and  ar- 
tillery, to  the  amount  of  six  thousand  men  and  upwards,  which  was  in  read- 
iness to  meet  and  repel  a  force  of  a  far  more  formidable  description  than 
was  commanded  by  the  adventurous  American.  Time  and  circumstances 
change  the  character  of  nations  and  the  fate  of  cities ;  and  it  is  some  pride 
to  a  Scotchman  to  reflect,  that  the  independent  and  manly  character  of  a 
country  willing  to  entrust  its  own  protection  to  the  arms  of  its  children, 
after  having  been  obscured  for  half  a  century,  has,  during  the  course  of  his 
own  lifetime,  recovered  its  lustre. 


NOTE  TO  GENERAL  PREFACE,  p.  19. 

THE  PUBLICATION  OF  WAVERLEY. 

From  Lockhart's  Memoirs  of  Sceit. 

["There  appeared  in  The  Scots  Magazine  for  February  ist,  1814,  an 
•nnouncement  that  '  Waverley  ;  or,  'tis  Sixty  Years  Since,  a  novel,  in  3 
vols.  i2mo.,' would  be  published  in  March.  And  before  Scott  came  into 
Edinburgh,  at  the  close  of  the  Christmas  vacation,  on  the  12th  of  Janu- 
ary,  Mr.  Erskine  had  perused  the  greater  part  of  the  first  volume,  and 
expressed  his  decided  opinion  that  Waverley  would  prove  the  most  popu* 
lar  of  all  his  friend's  writings.  The  MS.  was  forthwith  copied  by  John 
Ballantyne,  and  sent  to  press."  

In  a  letter  to  his  friend  J.  B.  S.  Morritt  of  Rokeby,  dated  July  9,  1814, 
Sir  Walter  says : — 

"  Now,  to  go  from  one  important  subject  to  another,  I  must  account  for 
my  own  lazmess,  which  I  do  by  referring  you  to  a  small  anonymous  sort  of 
a  novel,  in  three  volumes,  Waverley,  which  you  will  receive  by  the  mail  of 
this  day.  It  was  a  very  old  attempt  of  mine  to  embody  some  traits  of  those 
characters  and  manners  peculiar  to  Scotland,  the  last  remnants  of  which 
yanished  during  my  own  youth,  so  that  few  or  no  traces  now  remain.  I  had 
written  great  part  of  the  first  volume,  and  sketched  other  passages,  when  I 
mislaid  the  MS.,  and  only  found  it  by  the  merest  accident  as  I  was  rum- 
maging the  drawers  of  an  old  cabinet ;  and  I  took  the  fancy  of   finishing 

It,  which  I  did  so  fast,  that   the  last  two   volumes  were    written   in   three 
>» 

*CIb*  Author  was  quarter- matterof  the  Edinburgh  Voltmteer  Light  Horse.) 


460  APPENDIX. 

Again,  in  a  subsequent  note,  he  adds — 

"  As  to  Wavcrley,  I  will  play  Sir  Fretful  for  once,  and  assure  you  that 
I  left  the  story  to  flag  in  the  first  volume  on  purpose  ;  the  second  and  third 
have  rather  more  bustle  and  interest.  I  wished  (with  what  success  Heaven 
knows)  to  avoid  the  ordinary  error  of  novel  writers,  whose  first  volume  is 
usually  their  best.  But  since  it  has  served  to  amuse  Mrs.  Morritt  and  you 
usque  ah  initio,  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  tolerate  it  even  unto  the  end." 

The  above  statemei^  respecting  the  time  occupied  in  the  composition 
of  the  two  last  volumes  is  borne  out  by  the  following  anecdote,  told  by  his 
future  son-in-law,  J.  G.  Lockhart : — 

"  Happening  to  pass  through  Edinburgh  in  June,  1814, 1  dined  one 
^ay  with  William  Menzies  (afterwards  Judge  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope), 
whose  residence  was  then  in  George  Street,  situated  very  near  to  and  with- 
in sight  of  the  back  windows  of  Scott's  house  in  North  Castle  Street.  It 
was  a  party  of  very  young  persons,  most  of  them,  like  Menzies  and  myself, 
destined  for  the  Bar  of  Scotland,  all  gay  and  thoughtless,  enjoying  the  first 
flush  of  manhood,  with  little  remembrance  of  the  yesterday,  or  care  of  the 
morrow. 

"  When  my  companion's  worthy  father  and  uncle,  after  seeing  two  or 
three  bottles  go  round,  left  the  juveniles  to  themselves,  the  weather  be« 
ing  hot,  we  adjourned  to  a  library  which  had  one  large  window  looking 
northwards.  After  carousing  here  for  an  hour  or  more,  I  observed  that  a 
shade  had  come  over  the  aspect  of  my  friend,  who  Happened  to  be  placed 
immediately  opposite  to  myself,  and  said  something  that  intimated  a  fear  o£ 
his  being  unwell.  '  No,'  said  he,  '  I  shall  be  well  enough  presently,  if  you 
will  only  let  me  sit  where  you  are,  and  take  my  chair  ;  for  there  is  a  confound- 
ed hand  in  sight  of  me  here,  which  has  often  bothered  me  before,  and 
now  it  won't  let  me  fill  my  glass  with  a  goodwill.'  I  rose  to  change  places 
with  him  accordingly,  and  he  pointed  out  to  me  this  hand  which,  like  the 
writing  on  Belshazzar's  wall,  disturbed  his  hour  of  hilarity.  '  Since  we 
sat  down,'  he  said,  '  I  have  been  watching  it — it  fascinates  my  eye — it  never 
stops — page  after  page  is  finished  and  thrown  on  that  heap  of  MS.,  and 
still  it  goes  on  unwearied — and  so  it  will  be  till  candles  are  brought  in, 
and  God  knows  how  long  after  that.  It  is  the  same  every  night — I  can't 
stand  a  sight  of  it  when  I  am  not  at  my  books.' — '  Some  stupid,  dogged, 
engrossing  clerk,  probably,'  exclaimed  myself,  or  some  giddy  youth  in  our 
society.  '  No  boys,'  said  our  host,  '  I  well  know  what  hand  it  is — 'tis  Wal- 
ter Scott's.'  This  was  the  hand  that,  in  the  evenings  of  three  summer 
weeks,  wrote  the  two  last  volumes  of  Waverley. — From  the  Memoirs  tjf 
Sir  Walter  ScoU  by  J.  G.  Lockhart.] 


(AUTHOR'S  DEDICATION— ABBOTSFORD,  1829.) 

To  THE  King's  Most  Gracious  Majesty. 
SiKB— The  Author  of  this  Collection  of  the  Works  of  Fiction  would  not  have  presumed 
to  solicit  for  them  your  Majesty's  august  Patronage  were  it  not  that  the  perusal  has  been 
supposed  in  some  instances  to  have  succeeded  in  amusing  hours  of  relaxation,  or  relievine 
<hose  of  languor,  pain,  or  anxietjf,  and  therefore  must  have  so  far  aided  the  warmest  wisa 
cf  Your  Majesty's  heart,  by  contributing  in  however  small  a  degree  to  the  happiness  of  your 
People. 

They  are  therefore  hnmbly  dedicated  to  your  Majesty,  agreeably  to  your  Gracious  ref» 
'   d,  by  your  Majesty's  dutiful  subject 

Waltm  Scott. 


GLOSSARY 


CERTAIN  SCOTCH  TERMS  AND  PHRASES,  AS  APPUED 
IN  WAVERLEY. 


Aboon,  above. 
An,  if. 

Baff,  bang. 

Bailie,  Alderman  or  Magistrate. 

Bairn,  child. 

Ban,  to  curse. 

Barley,  stop,  from  Parley. 

Bawbee,  halfpenny. 

Beflummit,  palavered. 

Ben,  within,  intimate. 

BiELDY,  sheltered. 

Birlieman,  peace  officer. 

Braw,  brave,  beautiful. 

Brander,  broil. 

Brogues,  Highland  shoes. 

Broo',  sauce  or  soup. 

Bruckle,  ticklish. 

Brulzie,  brawl. 

Gallant,  lad. 
Carle,  fellow. 
Clachan,  hamlet. 
Clamhewit,  hack  with  an  axe. 
Clash,  jabber. 
Coup,  fall. 

Cow  vER  CRACKS,  cut  short  yDur  preten- 
tious talk. 
Craig,  neck. 

Daft,  crack-brained. 

Deil,  devil. 

Del'Ver,  active. 

'D-[\ov\.,gaelic,  devH. 

Doited,  stupid. 

DoRLACH,  gaelic,  valise. 

Dovering,  dozing. 

Dow,  a  dove. 

DoWFF,  deaf. 

Droghling  and  CoGHLiNG,  Wowing  and 

wheezing. 
DoiNHE-WAssEL,  goclk  gentleman. 

Fa'rd,  favored. 

Fbck,  part. 

Flbmit,  Ecai«d  «r  dsMid. 


Gad,  iron  bar. 

Gate,  way,  mode,  d!rectiou« 

Gear,  property,  cattle. 

Gin,  if. 

Gite,  noodle. 

Gleg,  smart. 

Gled,  kite. 

Glisk,  sight. 

Gkaning,  groaning. 

Gree,  agree. 

GuDEMAN,  husband. 

Haggis,  a  Scotch  pudding  made  of  mlncej 

meat,  oatmeal^  onions,  etc. 
Hallan,  partition  at  the  doorway. 
Hantle,  a  good  many. 
Heck  and  Manger,  to  live  in  prodigality, 

and  unconcern,  reckless. 
Her,  Highland,  my. 
Her  nain  sel,  Highland,  himself. 
Hership,  plunder. 
Het,  hot. 
H,iLL-FOLK,  name  given  to  Covenant«ra 

(who  worshipped  on  the  hills). 
HoRSE-couPEB,  horse-dealer. 

Ilka,  each. 
Ingle,  fire. 

Kemple,  a  quantity  of  stravh 
Ken,  know. 
Kippage,  fluster. 
Kittle,  tickle,  ticklish. 

LiMMBR,  Jade. 
Loup,  leap. 
Lug,  the  ear. 

Mask,  mash. 
Maun,  must. 
Mkrse,  Bervtrickshice. 


Nan,  Gaelic,  of. 
Nathlbss,  neve; 
Xbiv  nose* 


462 


fr^  VERLE  Y  NO  VELS. 


OwER,  over. 

Oyer  and  Terminer,  legale  bearing  and 
determining  a  cause. 

Panged,  stuffed. 
PiNNBR,  a  cap  with  lapjpets. 
Plack,  small  copper  coin. 
PowTKR,  dabble. 

Quean,  a  young  woman)  a  hussy* 

REnDiNG,  clearing. 
RiNTHEROUTS,  cutthroats. 
Rudas,  rough,  vulgar. 

Sark,  a  shirt. 

ScART,  scratch. 

Shanks,  legs. 

She,  Highland^  I  or  He. 

Sheers,  scissors. 

Shilpit,  puny-looking,  sickly. 

Shoon,  shoes. 

Siller,  money. 

SowENS,  a  sort  of  gntsL 

SruuiE,  spoil 


Stirk,  a  heifer. 
Stoor,  stubborn, 
Stot,  a  bullock. 
Streak,  to  stroke^own. 
Sybo,  a  sort  of  onion  or  raddislk 
Syne,  since,  ago. 

Taiglit,  drooping  and  disordere<L 

Thraw,  twist. 

Threepit,  averred. 

Throstle,  the  thrush. 

TiRRiVY,  a  tantrum. 

Tocher,  dowry. 

TuiLziE,  squabble  or  spree* 

Unco,  very,  particularly. 
Unsoncy,  saucy. 

Vilipend,  to  hold  of  no  conseqtiCBCf 

Wadset,  pledge. 
Weising,  whisking. 
Whilk,  which. 
Whinge,  to  whioe. 
WiNNA,  will  BCpI* 


INDEX  TO  WAVERLEY. 


A  t-A  MoRT,  Waverley?  169. 

Ahercromby,  his  advent«re  with  Rob  Roy, 

Ablution   and  abstersion   at  Glennaquoich, 

130. 
Absence,  effects  of,  on  a  lover,  184. 
AduUam,  cave  of,  326. 
Mice   Bean   Lean  at  the  cave,  116;    in  the 

hut,  230 ;  how  she  delivered  up  Waver- 

ley's  papers,  376. 
Alick  Polwarth,  Waveriey's  servant,  331. 
Amhurst,  Nicholas,  note  on,  419. 
Andeison  of  Whitburgh,  note  on,  429. 
Andrea  di  Ferrara,  note  on,  431, 
Arthi'r  s  Seat  before  the  battle,  266. 
Autlior's  address  to  all  in  general,  436. 
Authorship  of  Waverley,  5. 

Ball  at  Holvrood,  258. 

Ballenkeiroch  refuses  to  drink  Waveriey's 
health,  132  ;  and  Bradwardine  after  tiie 
battle,  285. 

Balmawhapple,  Laird  of,  69;  quarrel  at 
Luckie  Macleary's,  75  ;  apology  to  Wa- 
verley, 79  ;  rencontre  with  Bradwardine, 
91  ;  escorts  Waverley  from  Doune,  236 ; 
death  of,  at  Preston,  283  ;  note  on,  431. 

Ban  and  Buscar,  Bradwardine's  dogs,  8r, 
388 

Banquet  at  Tully-Veolan,  70. 

Bard  at  Glennaquoich,  133,  140. 

Battle  song  ot  Flora  Mac-Ivor's,  144. 

Bean  Lean,  Donald,  interview  in  his  cave, 
112  ;  raid  on  the  bridegroom  Gilliewhackit, 
121;  Flora's  dislike  to,  149;  intriguing 
with  Waveriey's  seal,  301  ;  end  of,  and 
confession,  355  ;  how  he  rescued  Waver- 
ley. 375- 

Bear,  the  blessed,  of  Bradwardine,  71  ;  re- 
stored, 414  ;  prototype  at  Glammis,  422. 

Beaujeu,  Comte  de,  335. 

Birch-trees,  fragrance  from,  109. 

Black  mail  refused  by  Bradwardine,  98,  109  ; 
note  on,  423. 

Bradwardine,  Baron,  origin  of  acquaintance  ; 
49  receives  Waverley,  66-68 ;  his  view 
of  literature,  84  ;  the  barony  in  male  fief, 
9j;  quarrel  with  Mac-Ivor,  loi,  138  ;  in 
Bstiburek  a^ot  at  evening  service  with 


his  troop,  278 ;  dilemma  about  pulling  o0 
the  Pnnce's  boots,  286  ;  performs  th« 
ceremony,  296  ;  in  concealment,  367  ;  re« 
ceives  his  pardon,  385-387 ;  recovers  ths 
"  Blessed  Bear,"  422. 

Bridal  favors  for  Fergus,  167 ;  garment  for 
Fergus,  396. 

Bridal  song  in  Queenhoo  Hall,  454. 

Bodach  Glas  or  Gray  Sceptre,  340,  399. 

Boots,  service  of,  by  Baron  EradwardinCt 
286,  296. 

Buchan,  Mrs.,  of  the  Greenlaw  inn,  421. 

Byron,  and  the  authorship  of  Waverley,  14* 

Cairnvreckan  Village,  192. 

Galium   Beg,  objections  to  rfiaracter  of,  6| 

accompanies    Waverley    south,    184 ;     in 

Edinburgh,  265  ;    aims  at   Colonel   Gardf> 

iner,  277  ;  fires  at  Wavefley,  331. 
Canting  heraldry,  92. 
Cameronians,  214. 
Cannon  In  the  Highland  army,   269 ;  nolS 

on,  429. 
Canongate,  Waveriey's  lodglngSin,  248. 
Carlisle,  Mac-Ivor  a  prisoner  in,  and  ex8» 

cution  at,  391-401. 
Caterans  at  Tully-Veolan,  98  ;  note  on,  41%, 
Cathleen's  song  of  "  Colley  my  cow,"  147. 
Cattle-lifters  respected  by  the  Highlandof% 

118. 
Cervantes'  ♦'  Open  your  gates,  incomparable 

Princess,"  157. 
Chapter,  shall  this  be  a  long  or  a  short  f  15% 
Charles  Edward.     See  Prince. 
Chief,   Highland,  description   of,   106,   il(t 

hospitality  required  from,  132. 
Clans  at  the  battle  of  Prestonpans,  i6y,  zS*. 
Clifton,  skirmish  at,  343,  347 ,  M'Phersoa'* 

account  of,  433 
Conan  the  jester,  note  on,  425. 
Cope,  General,  276,  429. 
Country  gentlemen,  effect  of  political  purMi 

cution  on,  147. 
Courage,  more,  required  to  run  away  tkasli 

fight,  309.  I 

Coursing  the  roe,  84. 
Crieff,  kindcallows  at,  434. 
Creagh  on  Tully-Veolan,  97. 
Craickshanks,  Ebenezer,  iSf-^j^ 


fVA  VERLE  V  NO  VELS. 


464 

Cruden,  Alexander,  f. 
Curiosity  and  courage,  329> 

Dance  at  Glennaquoich.  i50> 

Deer,  charge  of,  152. 

Desk,  author's  old,  11. 

Dinner-table,  Scotch,  note  on,  425. 

Dirk,  oath  upon,  435. 

Discipline  among  the  Highlanders,  424. 

Donald  Bean  Lean.     See  Bean. 

Doune  Castle,  note  on,  427. 

Dress,  change  in,  23. 

Drumming  the  iigth  Psalm,  217. 

Duchran,  happy  meeting  at,  388. 

Duelling,  pretext  for,  329. 

Dyer's  Weekly  Letter,  26. 

Eagle  at  Bally-Rrough,  107. 

Ebrius  and  ebriosus,  79. 

Edgeworth,  Miss,  her  literary  achievements, 

10. 
Edinburgh  approached  by  Balmawhappleand 

Waverley,  241. 
Education,  ancient  and  modem,  32. 
Ennerdale,  Lord,  fragment  of  a  letter,  44* 
Episcopalians  in  Scotland  persecuted,  69, 
Erskine,  Rev.  John,  D.D.,  196. 

Falconer,  Mr.    See  Balmawhapple. 

False  love,  and  hast  thou  played  me  thus? 
63. 

Fergus.     See  Mac-Ivor. 

Fiction,  author's  appetite  tor,  8. 

Fifteen  Scotch  judges,  238. 

Flockhart,  widovif,  and  her  lodgers,  254,  361. 

Flora  Mac'Ivor's  first  interview  at  Glen- 
naquoch,  134,  135 ;  her  retreat  by  the 
waterfall,  141,  144  ;  fascinates  W^er- 
ley,  151  ;  meeting  with  Waverley  after 
his  disgrace,  167  ;  declines  Wa^erley's 
suit,  173  ;  at  Holyrood,  258 ;  accident- 
ally wounded  by  a  Highlander,  298  ; 
her  solicitude  for  Rose,  and  opinion  of 
Waverley,  306-309 ;  making  Fergus's 
"  bridal  garment,"  396. 

Gardiner,  Colonel,  54  ;  first  letter  to  Wa- 
verley, 96  ;  orders  Waverley  to  Jretum, 
162  ;  fall  of,  at  Preston,  283 ',  note  on, 
420  ;  Doddridge's  description  of,  430. 

Cellatley,  David,  reception  of  Waverley,  62; 
described  by  Rose,  8t  ;  arrival  at  Glen- 
naquoich, 177  ;  his  song  and  dance,  53  ; 
shows  himself  among  the  ruins  of  Tully- 
Veolan,  366. 

Gellatley,  Janet,  the  witch,  89. 

Genealogical  stories  narrated  to  Waverley, 

^36. 

Gilfillan,  gifted,  and  his  volunteers,  217 ; 
•urprised  by  the  Highlanders,  224. 

Gtlliewhackit  carried  off  by  Donald  Bean, 
121. 

Glammis  Castle,  note  on,  422. 

Glenaladale,  where  Prince  Charles  landed, 
144. 

Glennaquoich  House,  and  entertainments  at, 
128-130. 

6reen-Breeks,  455. 

Hail  to  Uie«f  thoa  boljr  herb  1 154. 


flanover,  House  of,  Mac-Ivor's  dec1amaf!<n% 

165. 
Helots  among  the  Highlanders,  268. 
Hie  away,  over  bank,  over  brae,  82. 
Highland  chief  and  his  "tail,"  106. 
discipline,  note  on,  424. 
fling  or  reel  at  Glennaquoich,  178. 
poetry,  139. 
policy,  note  on,  424. 
politeness,  184. 
surgerj',  r53. 

village  sixty  years  ago,  56. 
Highlanders,  dislike  to,  by  Talbot,  3JJ. 

march  into  England,  325. 
HU  bairns!  195. 

Hog  in  har'st  at  Glennaquoich,  131. 
Holyrood  entered  by  Waverley,  242  ;  bal!  1% 

258. 
Home,   author  of  *'  Douglas,"  escape  :ro4 

Doune,  427. 
Houghton,  Sergeant,  200  ;  found  dying,  zft* 

incited  to  mutiny  by  Ruffin,  301. 
Hunt  at  Glennaquoich,  15:,  155. 

Imaginations  of  Waverley,  38. 
Innocents,  65. 

Inns,  Scottish,  note  on,  420. 
lod'Elicona  niente,  147. 
Irish  ofKcers,  note  on,  428. 
Irving,  John,  7. 

jACOBiTE-sentiments  in  England  428  ,  sy* 
pathizers,  author's  acqualtiCatice  witlt 
416. 

James  of  the  NeedTfe,  253. 

Janet,  old,  369. 

Jesters  kept  by  the  nobil?tv,  65. 

Jopson,  jjicob,  shelters  Waverley,  345,  36* 

KiLLANCUREiT  described  by  Bradwardinv 

69. 
Kind  gallows  of  Crieii,  note  on,  424. 

Lantern,  Mac-Farlane's,  427. 

Ledeard  w-aterfall,  426. 

Letters  from  home,  157. 

Library  at  Waverley-Honour,  33. 

Lillibulero  builen  a  la,  257 

Lindsay  of  Pitscottie,  his  Atholfe  hunt,  150^ 

Ldvat,  Lord,  his  rule  at  dinner,  425. 

Love,  early,  frequently  ambitious,  95. 

Luckie  Macleary's  mn,  and  quarrel  in.  73-7J 

Lude,  hunt,  commemorated  by  Gunn,  151. 

Maccombich,  Evan  Dhu,  embassy  to  Tullji 
Veolan  about  the  cattle,  104 ;  in  Ediai 
burgh,  254  ;  warns  Waverley  of  assassinat 
tinn,  330  ;  offers  to  die  for  his  chief,  393 

Mac-Farlane's  lantern,  note  on,  427. 

Mac-Ivor,  Fergus,  122-128  ;  compared  witll 
his  sister,  135  ;  his  song  at  the  w-aterfall, 
146  i  incites  Waverley  to  rebellion,  164^ 
170;  meets  Waverley  at  Holyrood,  2425 
rejected  in  his  suit,  310,  quarrels  with 
Waverley,  327,  333;  sees  the_''Bodadl 
Glas,"  340  ;  made  prisoner  at  Clifton,  3441 
condemned  to  death,  391,  397. 

Mac-Ivor,  Flora.    S»e  Flora* 

Macleary.    Ste  Luckie* 


INDEX. 


465 


MaCwheeble,  Bailie,  69,  70;  in  Edinburgh, 
353  ;  on  the  battle-field,  290  ;  immersed  in 
his  papers,  3S0,  381  ;  reads  the  assigna- 
tion of  Tully-Veolnn,  411. 

Jlac-Miirrough  the  Bard,  13J. 

Mac-Vicar's  prayer  for  Prince  Charles,  898. 

Manners,  change  in,  chiefly  external,  23. 

Matrimony  described  by  Flora,  148,  774. 

Melville,  Majorj  o£  Csiruvreckan,  197,  205. 

Military  education,  54. 

Mirkv/ood  Mere,  sonnet,  44. 

Morrison  Fynes,  his  travels  in  Scotland,  425. 

Morion,  minister  of  Caimvreckan,  196; 
visits  Waverley  in  his  confinement,  211. 

Mucklewrath,  the  smith  of  Caimvreckan, 
192. 

Muiray,  William,  formerly  Manager  ot 
Theatre  Royal,  Edinburgh,  135. 

My  hearts  in  the  Highlands,  178. 

My  Master  I  119. 

NaTrne,  Miss,  note  on,  431. 

Newspaper  temp.  Waverley,  26 

Nosebag,  Mrs.,  351. 

Notes  to  Waverley,  author's  apology  for,  15. 

Oath,  upon  the  dirk,  note  on,  435. 

Oggara  hieroglyphic,  182. 

O  Lady  of  the  desert,  hail  J  146. 

O  vous,  qui  buvez,  k  tasse  pleine,  146. 

Paul  Jones  in  Firth  of  Forth,  458. 

Pedlar  that  joins  Gnfillan,  222. 

Pembroke  the  tutor,  his  interview  with  the 
bookseller,  50 ;  .eiter  01  ten  folio  pages, 
159  ;  in  the  "  Priest  s  Hole,"  404. 

Picara  /ustina  Diez,  history  of,  124. 

Pinkie  House,  near  Mussleburgh,  293. 

Polonaise  dress  worn  by  Scotch  boys,  153  ■ 

Pork  abhorred  by  the  Scotch,  131. 

Prestonpans  battle-field,  274-282. 

Prince  Charles  at  Holyrood,  243  ;  separates 
the  combatants,  333  ;  his  alacrity  at  Pres- 
tonpans, 429 ;  defence  of,  by  the  author, 
note,  431. 

QtTEENHOo  Hall,  edited  by  the  author  ot 
Waverley,  11,  455. 

Rachel,  Aunt,  37,  53;  letter  from,  inquiring 
about  Rose,  161. 

Rank  and  ancestry,  69. 

Ravelbton  garden,  61. 

Reading  desultory,  33. 

Rhymer,  Thomas  the,  437, 

Robertson,  Rev.  Dr.,  196. 

Rob  Roy,  note  on,  423. 

Romance,  characters  requisite  to  make  in- 
teresting, 24. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  opinions  on,  316. 

Rose  Bradwardine,  65  ;  apartment  at  Tully- 
Veolan,  86,  87,  92,  94,  ns  ;  described  by 
Flora,  148;  letter  to  Waverley,  17S;  at 
Holyrood,  263  ;  her  interest  in  Waver- 
ley, 306,  315;  assists  him  when  a  prisoner 
at  Caimvreckan,  376. 

Rubrick  the  clergyman,  hit  conscience*  70. 

Rubrick  of  the  Duchran,  389. 

EufiSn.    Sn  Bean,  Don-'-* 


St.  Tohnstone's  tippet,  238. 
St.  Swithin's  chair,  sonnet,  88. 
Saundersoii,  Alex.,  butler  at  TuIIy.Veolan, 

68. 
School-days,  anecdote  ot  author's,  455. 
Scotland,   effects  of  the  Jacobite   rebelKon 

upon,  416. 
Scott,  Thos.,  supposed  author  of  "  Waven, 

ley,"  IS  ;  his  tale  of  fiction,  455, 
Second  sighted  persons,  113. 
Sidier  Dhu,  120. 
Siddons,  Mrs.  Henry,  135. 
Skene-occle,  or  Highland  knife,  187. 
Society,  dislike  to,  36. 
Spontoon,  Col.  Talbot's  servant,  354, 
Stag's  horn,  wounded  from,  153. 
Steakraid,  149. 

Stewart,  governor  of  Doune  Castle,  235. 
Stewart  of  Invernahyle,  note  on,  457. 
Stirling    Castle    defied    by    Balmawhappl«^ 

239- 
Strutt,  Joseph,  posthumous  works,  10. 
Stubbs,  Cecilia,  flirtation  with,  40. 
Stirrup  cup,  note  on,  422. 
Superstitions,   stirgery    in    the    Highland^ 

154. 

Talbot,  Colonel,  Waverley's  prisoner,  s?8g  ; 
character  and  opinions  of,  304  ;  receive* 
ill  tidings  from  home,  318;  gets  leave  to 
return  home  from  Prince  Charles,  321 J 
receives  Waverley  into  his  house  in  Lon« 
don,  357  ;  letter  to  Waverley  with  pardon 
for  him  and  l^radwardine,  383  ;  at  Tully* 
Veolan,  festivities,  409  ;  protection  of,  by 
Waverley,  note  on,  457. 

Tartans  distinctive  of  clans,  225. 

Taylor's  hunt  in  the  braes  of  Mar,  151. 

There  is  mist  on  the  mountain,  144. 

Thieves,  Highland  ^^a^/c>«?«,  118. 

Thomas,  the  Rhymer,  fragment  of  a  ro« 
mance,  437,  440. 

Three  things  useless  to  a  Highlander,  139. 

Tinchel,  a  mode  of  driving  the  deer,  152. 

Titus  Livius,  attachment  to,  419. 

To  an  oak-tree,  iSg, 

Trimmed  the  bookseller,  52. 

TuUy-Veolan,  village,  56 ;  Manor-houat 
and  garden^  59,  61  ;  creagh  on,  from  tha 
Highlands,  97;  revisited  by  Waverley, 
descdatlon,  364)  restored,  festivities  .at, 
408. 

Ubbda,  Franosco,  a  hair  in  his  pen,  124. 
Unctiori,  extreme,  Donald  Dean's  idea  0^ 
JS6. 

Venison  of  the  roe,  8i. 

Vich  Ian  Vohr.     Sec  Mac-Ivor,  Fctgua, 

Von  £ul«n,  journal  of,  444. 

Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay,  446. 
Washing  scene  at  Tully-Veolan,  62.        ( 
Watch  found  by  the  Highlanders,  284. 
Waterfall   at  Glennaquoich,   141  ,   note  OQi 

426. 
'•  Waverley,"  authorship  and  origin  of,  j,  A 

9,  13,  21,  459  ;  revision  of  the.  Novels,  1. 
Waverley,    Edward's    first     interview  wMh 

bis  uucle,  19 ;  education  at  th«  halli  |f  | 


466 


J^A  VERLE  Y  NO  VELS. 


choice  of  a  profession,  41  ;  military  ecliica- 
tion^  51 ;  reception  of,  at  Tully-Veolan, 
6z  ;  iourney  to  Glonnaqiioicll,  107  ;  healtli 
drunk  by  M.ic-lvor,  130;  emotions  to- 
wards Flora,  1-13  ;  liis  loyalty  incited  by 
the  bard,  145  ;  loss  of  his  seal,  149 ; 
wounded  in  the  stag-hunt,  and  conveyed 
K)  Toraanrait,  153-156;  returns  to  Gleii- 
naquoich  (letters  from  home),  156  ;  ordered 
Jo  return  to  his  regiment,  562  ;  undoes  the 
"  sable  cockade,"  167 ;  last  meeting  with 
Flora  at  the  waterfall,  173;  "inquired 
after"  by  the  soldiers  at  luliy-Veolan,  179; 
leavis  Glennaquoicli,  iSs  ;  detained  at  the 
village  of  Cairnvieckan,  192  ;  examined 
before  Major  Melville,  197  ;  rescued  from 
Gilfillan,  224 ;  night  adventure,  232 ;  ar- 
rives at  Doune  Castle,  234  ;  leaves  for 
Edinburgh  escorted  by  Balmnwhappie,  236; 
presented  by  Mac-Ivor  to  Prmce  Charles, 
*43  ;  assumes  the  Mac-Ivor  tartan,  24S, 
*S3  ;  repulsed  by  Flora  at  Holyrood,  259  ; 
commences  the  march,  264  ;  saves  Colonel 
Talbot't  lifs  at  Prestonpans,  281  ;  dis- 
covers tke  missing  letters  v\  the  plot 
ae.^inst  h^  iooj  bis  c-'vtcbk^  in   Edin- 


burgh, 305;  changes  his  affectioni,  }»(; 
quarrel  with  Mac-Ivor,  327;  gets  »ep« 
arated  from  the  Highlanders  xt  Cliftor,, 
344  ;  journey  to  London,  350  ;  return 
to  Scotland,  361  ;  receives  explanations 
of  past  events,  374 ;  an  accepted  lover, 
3S9  ;  leaves  for  Carlisle  to  intercede  for 
Mac-Ivor,  391 ;  returns  to  Waverley- 
Honour,  403  ;    nuptials   at  Tully-Veolanj 

405- 
Waverley,  Sir  Everardj  his  will   and   court* 

ship,   27,  28  ;  his  political   susceptibilities, 

42;  parting   advice    to    his    nephew,   47; 

letter  to  his  nephew,  161. 
Waverley,   Richard,   estrang«»ient  from  his 

brother,  24  ;  political  intrigue  and  fall,  159; 

death  of,  349. 
Whisky  among  the  Highlanders,  114. 
Whitefoord,  Colonel,  note  on,  457. 
Wiiibert  of  Waverley,  the  crusader,  37. 
Williams,  Ned,  caught  sweethearting,  345. 
Witchcraft  in  Scotland,  89. 
Wogan,  Captain,  172  ;  sung  by  Flora,  18$, 

Young  Msn  will  love  thee  more  fair  airf 
iBor«  iast,  9i> 


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